Solitary
by Enthusiastic Fish
Summary: Tim-centered story. While on a research trip to an unstable Atlantic island, Tim runs into trouble. It's up to his team to find out what happened. Now complete.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** This is a fairly long (27 chapters plus epilogue) Tim-centered story. Much of it takes place on an Atlantic island called Lugniapo. Now, before you rush off to look that up (if you really would do it), I have to explain. Lugniapo does not exist. It is an island nation I created because of the situation in this story and the lack of vital information available to me in my research on existing islands. I created the nation, its history, its location...and even a Spanish dialect for it. I give special thanks to Lady Aracne for her help with the language. It is basically modified Spanish in print (although in my head, the pronunciations are different). Everything about the island is fictional although there may be some similarities than you can see to real places. I have made use of a few different African languages in my Lugniapi dialect, as well as the names of some of the characters. The reasons for this should be clear as they come up. Anyway, I hope you enjoy.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own NCIS, nor the characters of NCIS. I do claim my OCs and the aforementioned island nation of Lugniapo. However, I'm not making any money of this story.

* * *

**Solitary  
**by Enthusiastic Fish

**Chapter 1**

"You're going _where_?" Tony asked incredulously.

"Lugniapo," Tim repeated patiently.

"Are you nuts, McGee?"

"Not last I checked," Tim said, trying to maintain his equanimity.

"That place is not really safe for outsiders."

"I know."

"Not even tourists are going there much since the coup."

"I know."

"Aren't there enough beaches in safer places?"

"I'm not going for the beaches, Tony," Tim said and checked on the status of some of his long-running projects. He'd be gone for a week and he didn't want to leave anything vital hanging for that long.

"Then, why in the world are you going?"

"Research." Tim was struggling to ignore Tony in the hopes that he'd just stop talking. Ever since he'd realized that Tim was leaving for a week-long vacation, he'd been trying to wheedle his destination out of him. Since he was leaving tomorrow, Tim figured it wouldn't hurt to tell.

"Research? For what?"

"My book."

"I thought you had decided not to write any more books," Tony said, sounding accusing.

"No, Tony. _You_ decided I wouldn't be writing any more books. I am, unfortunately for you, under contract to produce a total of four books for the Deep Six series. That means that with _Rock Hollow_ being done, I have two more books I have to write. I'm going international for the next one and Lugniapo seemed like a good choice."

"Why? Because people get killed there a lot and not even U.N. peacekeepers are going in there now?"

Tim sighed. "Look, I'm only going to the capital city, Aolano. I've made all the arrangements. I got a special visa. The government assigned me a guide who is never supposed to leave my side. He'll be my translator, too. I'm going there for a week and then I'm coming back. As long as I'm careful...which I will be...there's no problem."

"Except that there's an unstable and corrupt government and who knows how many human rights violations going on in there," Tony said.

Tim looked up and smiled. "Gosh, Tony...if I didn't know any better, I'd say you might actually be worried about me."

Tony did not smile. "Be careful, McGee. I mean that. Is research really worth risking your life over?"

"I'm not risking my life as long as I follow the rules. I've done everything in advance. I've been planning this for months."

"Months?"

"Yeah. Do you know how hard it is to get a visa for Lugniapo? I had to get special letters from the government, demonstrate that I was being honest about my intentions, and get permission from both the U.S. government _and_ the Lugniapo government in order to get approved for my visit. Basically, I'm saying that if anything bad happens to me there, it's not their fault."

"_That_ seems like a bad idea, McGee," Ziva said, joining in for the first time.

"It's the only way I could get in there." Tim saw them both getting ready speak again. He continued quickly. "Hey! You're both acting like I don't know the risks, like I've never seen anything dangerous before. I have. I was in Somalia, too, remember? Lugniapo is starting to stabilize and while they're still not letting too many outsiders into Aolano, there _is_ some tourism on the coast. I'm being careful." He logged off his computer. "I'll see you guys next week."

"Have a nice time," Ziva said finally. "It should be a good experience."

"Thank you, Ziva." Tim smiled and headed for the elevator.

"McGee?" Tony said from behind him.

"What, Tony?"

"Just be careful."

Tim turned back. Tony was serious. Tim smiled and nodded in acceptance of the warning.

"I'll be careful. I'm always careful, Tony. See ya!"

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Two days later..._

Tim watched out the window, waiting for his first view of his destination...and he tried to ignore all the looks he was getting from the other people on the plane. It was a small plane...and Tim was the only white guy on it. Lugniapo was a large-ish island essentially halfway between South America and Africa, about two hundred miles south of the St. Peter and St. Paul Archipelago. Its location meant that there had been heated battles over who controlled it for more than a century before the slaves dropped there and the native inhabitants (those who had survived colonization anyway) had banded together and begun fighting against the masters. Since the mid-18th century, there had been periods of stability followed by longer periods of chaos as each group momentarily came out on top and stomped down the others. The most recent coup had been a radical political group who had taken down the first democratically-elected government the nation had seen in more than fifty years. That had been two years ago and it was only during this year that tourism had begun again...a small trickle of people wanting to enjoy the dark sandy beaches. They weren't white, but a kind of dark sand, almost black. It was interesting and attracted attention.

As the plane began to descend toward the Aolano airport, Tim felt more than a little nervous. This had been a long time in the making, and no matter what he had said to Tony, he _was_ aware that this trip was more than a little risky. Still, it was the right thing to do. Of that much, he was sure...and nothing should go wrong provided he followed his guide's directions.

The plane landed and Tim waited for everyone else to get off before heading out himself. He climbed carefully down the steps and followed the crowd into the terminal. As he entered, he looked around, wondering if his guide would have a sign with his name on it.

"Timothy McGee." It was not a question.

He turned toward the female voice.

"That's me, yes."

"I am Alayla. I will be your guide while you are in Aolano. You must do as I say in every instance and you must not wander off by yourself for even a moment. Do you understand?"

"Yes. I understand. Do I need to go through customs?"

"No. You will give me your passport, please."

Tim hesitated. "I wasn't told that would be required."

"You will give me your passport or you will not be allowed to leave the airport."

Tim reluctantly fished out his passport and handed it to Alayla who pocketed it quickly.

"It will be returned to you at the end of your trip."

"All right. So...um...what's first?"

"Today I will take you to your hotel. You will stay there until tomorrow morning when I will take you on a tour of the city. The next day, we will begin the interviews you requested."

"Am I allowed to take pictures?"

"Only at designated times and in designated areas. Please ask for permission before you do so."

"All right. Where do I get my luggage?"

"It will be searched first and then sent on to the hotel. We will go."

"Most of my stuff is in there."

"It will arrive in plenty of time for you to use it. Dinner will be served in the hotel. I must ask that you not leave."

Tim nodded, feeling more tense than he could remember feeling in a long time. Alayla was not unfriendly, but her blunt manner was making him edgy. She led him out of the terminal and he got his first glimpse of Aolano. It was not pretty.

_It's like a war zone,_ he thought. _No wonder they don't like outsiders to see it._

"Come, Timothy McGee," Alayla said. "We must go."

"Okay. I'm coming."

He got in the car and hoped he hadn't made a mistake in coming here.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Ten days later..._

The truck lurched to a stop and Tim was thrown violently against the front of the truck-bed. He barely flinched. His head felt heavy and his mind was running more slowly than molasses. Unkind hands pulled him from his prone position, dragging him from the bed and forcing him to stand on his own feet. With an effort, he focused on the building in front of him. He couldn't read the words over the entrance. He recognized the letters but the words themselves were unfamiliar...in another language. ...even so, he had no difficulty discerning what the building was. Every window had bars. There was a high fence surrounding the entire area, barbed wire on top.

He was forced into motion and he stumbled forward. A door opened, revealing cavernous black. As he kept walking, he felt a thrill of fear that finally awakened him to his situation. He didn't need to have anyone tell him what was happening. As the door clanged shut behind him, plunging the hallway into gloom, he knew exactly what was happening.

They had sent him to prison.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

_Two months later..._

Tim wandered through the yard, trying to enjoy the time outdoors before he knew he would be forced into the close quarters with the other prisoners. He wasn't sure he could tolerate that. He didn't want to have to deal with the fleas, the rats...and the other prisoners, the ones who, no matter how long he was here, would always see him as nothing more than a target. He had shown that he wasn't soft and, after a few weeks here, had become much harder than he had been at the start...but he felt the cloud descending and he longed for the comfort of solitary confinement.

_I need a break._

He began to search for an opportunity to start a fight. There was no quicker way into solitary than to upset the fragile balance. The guards were always on the lookout for a sudden rise in tensions.

He couldn't think clearly anymore. The world was going fuzzy and that was dangerous for him... in fact...

A fist swung and connected with his lower back, ramming him into the fence. Knowing that there was a chance he'd not be sent if he didn't fight back (a slim chance but one he wasn't willing to take), Tim forced himself into action and whirled around, seeing that it was Pidaro coming after him this time. He could take Pidaro if he was alone, but he was never alone.

"Bring it on," Tim said, never sure if they actually understood him. No one spoke English when he was around. It kept him in the dark about whether or not they were after him again.

Pidaro, whether he understood Tim's words or not, understood their tone. He smiled. Tim launched forward and got a good left hook to Pidaro's jaw, sending him reeling. Tim wasn't sure why they were always surprised that he could fight like this. After so many altercations, he would have thought they'd realize that Tim wasn't a pushover. He wondered what they expected from him. Pidaro's cronies helped him back up and Tim could see that this wouldn't end with a couple of blows. Pidaro, for whatever reason, was out for blood this time. Hopefully, the guards would twig to the fight very soon. They usually did. He just had to keep his head above water for a little bit longer...

"No pelear!" came a command from across the yard. Four guards were closing in on the scuffle while the others were forcing the rest of the inmates into a holding area. Tim had guessed before that meant they should stop fighting, but he never knew for sure exactly what was being said. Pidaro tried to get one more swing in, but Tim was ready and head-butted him, knocking him to the ground...just before the guards began hitting everyone in the group with their batons. They were indiscriminate in dealing out blows when it came to stopping a fight.

Some of Pidaro's gang melted away from the area while others were there to make sure that Tim got the worst of it...not that they really needed to worry about that. Every punishment dealt out to a group meant that Tim would automatically get a worse punishment than the others...even if he hadn't been present. That was the way it worked when one was the only white man in the prison population. Being Caucasian was essentially an additional crime all on its own. Even those who might have been sympathetic to his plight wouldn't dare show any mercy.

That meant that Tim would get a few extra whacks with the baton and would get twice the time in solitary as the others. ...which was what he wanted anyway; so that was not a bad thing. There were trade-offs to being in solitary confinement...such as the fact that he was generally only given the food that was brought for him every other day instead of every day. It was worth it, though.

As he, Pidaro and two other prisoners were dragged off to the confinement cells, Tim stifled his sigh of relief. Bruised and battered as he currently was, he was looking forward to the time alone. ...or almost alone.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"I'm sorry, Agent Gibbs, but I have tried everything I can, pulled every string, and I can't get anyone willing to try and force the Lugniapi government to cooperate," Vance said firmly. "They have no representation in the UN, no diplomatic ties to anyone. Argentina, Brazil, Nigeria and Angola are the only countries with whom they have any trade ties. With the Lugniapi government claiming no knowledge of Agent McGee's whereabouts, and our government unwilling to get involved, I have no options. NCIS cannot investigate. We are not being allowed into the country. That's final, Agent Gibbs."

"That's not good enough, Leon," Gibbs said angrily. "We know that McGee went to Lugniapo. We _know_ that! We found the boarding information. We know that he was only planning on staying there for a week. We have all his flight information. He wasn't on the flight! McGee is still there!"

"You don't have to tell _me_ it's not good enough, Gibbs! I _know_ it's not good enough, but I have no other recourse," Vance said, finally losing his temper. "You have it easy! All you have to deal with is me. _I'm_ trying to manipulate senators and ambassadors. I've put everything on the line trying to find a way to get into Lugniapo and see if we can find any sign of Agent McGee, alive _or_ dead...but nothing has worked! We have no other choice but to wait and hope that maybe he's still alive." Vance sighed and sat back down. "...but after two months what are the odds?"

"The odds don't matter. Until I see a body, he's alive. ...and the fact that they won't let us in to investigate tells me that they know _something_. The McGees aren't giving up and neither am I."

Vance just sighed again as Gibbs stormed out of the office. There was nothing he could do. If Gibbs could find out something that _he_ could do, well, Vance was all for it. He agreed that the Lugniapi were hiding something...even if it was just that Tim had been killed, but without the authority of the federal government to back them up, there was nothing he, as Director of NCIS, could do.

...but knowing what he did about the official stance of Lugniapo on the status of anyone from outside the country, he almost hoped that Tim _was_ dead.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim was thrown into the cramped cell and heard the door close behind him. He didn't know how long he'd be in there, but he would cherish every moment of being by himself. No getting forced onto the floor instead of his cot. No being attacked in the middle of the night. No continuous worry of things somehow getting worse than they already were. No trying pretend that every moment he spent in this place didn't bring him closer and closer to a total breakdown. Without bothering to move, he let himself sleep, feeling a slight easing of the tension that was always present.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"_You know, Probie, you really shouldn't pick a fight with ten guys just to get a chance to chat."_

Tim sighed as he regained consciousness. He wondered why it was Tony. He'd been hoping for a little sympathy.

"I didn't pick a fight, not this time...and you know it."

"_You were going to...and _you_ know _that_. You're going about this all wrong."_

"Oh, yeah? How am I supposed to be going about it?" Tim asked, crawling awkwardly to the pallet. "I guess _you_ would have been able to talk Pidaro out of beating me up?"

"_I, at least, would be _able_ to talk to Pidaro...even a little bit. The language is closer to Spanish than it is to English, white boy."_

Tim collapsed onto the pitiful excuse for a bed, grateful for the rest.

"Thanks, Tony. I really appreciate your vote of confidence."

"_You're not even trying, McGee. How long have you been here already? You're just picking fights and laying around."_

"What do you expect me to do?"

"_Something more than talk to me, Probie."_

"This isn't my fault, Tony! I've told you that, I don't know how many times. I didn't do anything wrong!"

"_Then, why are you here?"_

"I don't know!" Tim shouted, sitting up to confront the accusation. "I don't know why I'm here! ...I mean, I think I know what they're saying I did, but I can't imagine why they are. I don't know what happened. I don't know what's going on and the last thing I need is for you to tell me that I'm doing everything the wrong way! If all you're going to do is attack me, then you shouldn't have bothered showing up at all!"

"_Well, then why are you imagining _me_, Probie? If you wanted sympathy, you should have conjured up someone else."_

Tim sighed and voiced his deepest fear. "Why _am_ I still here, Tony? Shouldn't someone have realized that I'm missing by now? Once we realized _Ziva_ was missing, we moved heaven and earth to get her back. You knew I was only supposed to be gone for a week. You know where I was going. I told you guys all about it. Why have you left me here?" He felt tears and tried to hold them back.

"_Maybe because you're _not_ as important as Ziva...or maybe just because it's harder to find someone when there's no one to speak for them. Who's going to speak for you here, Probie? And how are they going to manage it? A terrorist camp is a cinch compared to an entire country gunning for you."_

"Is there any chance, Tony? Any at all?"

"_Hey, I'm not the real Tony, remember? I'm just you...thinking aloud. That's why you keep asking the question. You don't know yourself. ...and that's why you have me talking like a shrink. If you wanted to be psychoanalyzed, you should have conjured up Ducky."_

Tim laughed. "You're right. I should have." Too quickly, though, the laughter became tears. "I'm so scared, Tony."

"_Ah, you should have told me you were wanting a pep talk. I would have approached the conversation differently! Keep your chin up, McGee. We haven't let you down yet. Just give us some time."_

Tim took a deep breath and nodded.

"You're right. I don't know how long it's been, but I shouldn't think you'll all forget about me."

"_Exactly. Can you imagine how many times Gibbs has destroyed something electronic just because he's frustrated with it?"_

Tim laughed again. "Thanks for letting me feel needed, Tony."

"_No problem, Probie."_

With a deep breath, Tim closed his eyes again and Tony said nothing else.

Tim slept.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_One week later..._

At the shift change, two guards spoke in low voices, in the Lugniapo dialect. It was predominantly Spanish but had the influence of French, Portuguese, as well as some African and native languages. It made it understandable to someone fluent in Spanish but very difficult for most others to learn.

"Conqui está hablando hui?" Alevaro asked.

"Conla que llama Abby."

"Esa ala que amó algum vez?"

"Asi, estant hacindo reminicencint."

"Quines? Est solo en son celda, Juan."

Juan shrugged. "Obvimente esta esperando las respuestas, asi que estoy determinado que esta escuchando algumato."

"Pidaro ha sido liberado?"

"Si, esta manha."

"Cuanto tempo mas va quedarser?"

"Una semana mas... porlo menos."

"No se cuentant que esto no es un punicion parél?"

"No tengo idea. Han traido comida hui?"

"Comme sempre, se la voy a llevar."

Juan nodded. "Estant planando algumato."

"Si, lo se." Alevaro knew, but there was little they could do. The inability to show any kind of sympathy was not confined to prisoners. He headed to the solitary block. Their only white prisoner was also the only current occupant. His voice could be heard emanating from the small room.

"I hope Jethro's okay, Abbs. I know that someone would be taking care of him for me...but I'm surprised that I actually miss him."

Alevaro stood outside the door and listened. He understood English, although he was not very good at speaking it. Only Lugniapi and Spanish were taught in schools. Portuguese was offered but not required.

There was a laugh from inside the cell. "Yeah, can you imagine what Pidaro would do if I had a German shepherd to sic on him?"

From all he and Juan could tell, their prisoner wasn't crazy. He seemed to know that he was speaking to no one, and it only happened in solitary. It was, however, very strange behavior.

"I don't know, Abby. I don't know why I never imagine my family...maybe it's because I know they really can't do anything to help me and I know how my parents would feel."

Again, a long pause. Whoever this Abby was, she seemed to have a lot to say.

"No, please. Don't remind me of all the things that could go wrong with my body. I don't want to know how many diseases I could get. It's bad enough that I know I must have contracted _something_ from the water. Just the thought of maybe having some sort of parasite churning in my gut makes feel sick."

For probably the hundredth time, Alevaro wondered just who this prisoner was and what he had done. He sounded like an American. He had referred to whatever had brought him here before, but had never been specific.

"You know...it might be just my own desperate imagination, but I could almost swear that some of the guards feel a little sorry for me. Not many, mind you...probably not even _most_ of them, but some do. I'd never even dare try and show it. That wouldn't be good for anyone, but it's nice to think that _someone_ in this horrible place thinks of me as a human being rather than vermin."

At that, Alevaro banged on the door.

"Food!" he said loudly and opened the small flap in order to slide the small meal inside.

"Gracias," came the soft voice. It seemed to be one of the few words he knew, and it was only Spanish.

Alevaro didn't reply. The prisoner was always polite in solitary, but he had nothing to lose. He could fall no further than he was. Alevaro, on the other hand, could fall a very long way should he be seen to be sympathizing with the prisoners...particularly with _this_ prisoner. If he survived, it seemed as though he would be there for a very long time. He needed to learn the way things worked.

...if he survived.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Translations from Lugniapan:_

"Who is he speaking to today?" (_Conqui está hablando hui?)_

"The one he calls Abby." _(Conla que llama Abby)_

"She is the one he loved once?" _(Esa ala que amó algum vez)_

"Yes. They're reminiscing." _(Asi, estant hacindo reminicencint)_

"They? He's alone in the cell, Juan." _(Quines? est solo en son celda, Juan.)_

"Obviously, he's waiting for replies; so he's hearing something." (_Obvimente esta esperando las respuestas, asi que estoy determinado que esta escuchando algumato)_

"Pidaro has been released?" _(Pidaro ha sido liberado?)_

"Yes. This morning."_ (Si, esta manha)_

"How much longer does he get to stay?" _(Cuanto tempo mas va quedarser?)_

"Another week...at least."_ (Una semana mas, porlo menos)_

"Does no one else realize that this isn't a punishment to him?" _(No se cuentant que esto no es un punicion parél?)_

"I don't know. Food was brought today?"_ (No tengo idea. Han traido comida hui?)_

"As always. I'll take it to him." (_Comme sempre, se la voy a llevar)_

"They'll be planning something." _(Estant planando algumato)_

"Yes, I know." _(Si, lo se)_


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

_One month later..._

"Boss! Look at this!" Tony said, appalled. He was staring at the television. "It's important!"

Gibbs walked over to Tony's desk where he and Ziva and Abby were all facing the screen.

"_...declared that all travel to and from Lugniapo will be suspended for the next two weeks because of accusations of attempted infiltrations by the United States. The federal government denies all such allegations but insists that the Lugniapi must allow all tourists to return to their families. Cesar de Andrade, the de facto leader of the government, has promised that once the U.S. ceases its unfounded accusations of obstruction, all tourists will be allowed to leave."_

"Unfounded accusations?" Ziva said. "This is about McGee, yes?"

"It _has_ to be," Tony said, staring at the map which had come up on the screen.

"_All cell phone service, internet service and landline phones have been shut down. The seaport of Cascheya has been closed and the airport in Cascheya, along with the Aolano airport have both been shut down. Needless to say, many families are frightened for their friends and relatives who were on Lugniapo. A cruise ship had just made port yesterday, and while it has been allowed to leave, no one on the island has been permitted to reboard."_

"Why would they do this just because of Tim?" Abby asked. "Does that mean he's still alive? It's got to. They wouldn't go through all this if he was dead, Gibbs. Would they? They wouldn't!"

"The McGees have been pressuring their state senators who have, in turn, been pressuring Congress," Vance said from behind them. "It was just enough of an irritant for the Lugniapi government to pull back completely. We have little chance of finding out anything now."

"We had a chance before?" Gibbs asked, raising an eyebrow.

"More than we do now," Vance said, not taking the bait. "Now, _no one_ is going to get in there...not even tourists...and once they reopen the island to let people leave, you can bet people are going to pull back on the pressure...and they'll close up again. Lugniapo has always rejected what it terms 'outside interference' because they feel that all their problems have come from the colonization period and the forced migration of the native peoples along with the African slaves. Sanctions won't work because they do so little with the aid of the outside world. Threats won't work because they've shown in the past that they don't care about the power of the bigger countries. The leaders know that civilians will not be targeted. In short, Lugniapo ignores the world and doesn't care if the world does the same."

"What are we going to do then, Director Vance?" Ziva asked. "If this is, indeed, because of McGee, then Abby is correct. They would not go through all this just because he had died. They would have come up with a convincing story of his demise and would have sent his body home and been done with it."

"He's alive...and he's _there_...somewhere," Tony agreed.

"I'm sure you're right, but how do you propose finding him?" Vance asked.

Everyone was silent for a few minutes.

"What if we started over?" Tony suggested.

"Started over?" Ziva repeated.

"Yeah...treat this like a new case. We don't assume that we know _anything_ about what McGee was doing, where he was going...everything."

"It's been three months, Tony," Gibbs said. "Trail's pretty cold, even here."

"Yeah...and?"

Gibbs smiled and then looked at Vance with a challenge in his eyes.

"I'll allow it...but if your investigation takes you out of this country, you had better verify it with me, first! We are not going to be censured because you guys went off grid. Got that? I get the slightest wind of you taking off, you're done here. Permanently."

"Understood, Director," Gibbs said.

"Good." He turned around and started to leave. At the stairs he stopped. "I hope you find him. If he is alive, I'm sure he'll need help."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Two weeks later..._

The door opened and Tim was buffeted this way and that by his fellow prisoners as they surged out into the yard. He barely noticed. He'd been feeling horrible the last few days, and he knew he had a fever. More than that, he didn't know. The problem was that the only illnesses for which a prisoner could expect any sort of treatment were those that posed a genuine danger to the rest of the population. So...even as Tim staggered out into the blinding sunshine, he didn't hold any hope of someone checking him over. Maybe there really _was_ something in the water.

On top of that, over the past couple of weeks, he'd felt his lungs getting congested. He'd started coughing a few days previously...with the result that he'd been kicked off his cot and forced to curl up by the window, trying to muffle the increasingly painful coughs so that no one would kick him to make him shut up.

Now, he just wanted to sit in the sun for a while and hopefully get rid of the chill that had suddenly gripped him. He just felt horrible. Maybe he had the flu.

"Eh! Menio albo!"

Tim barely turned at the voice. He recognized the words, if not the exact meaning. Today was not a day for getting in a fight. He turned around to confront the group when a coughing fit seized him. He could barely breathe and his chest really hurt. When he finished coughing, he noticed that the prisoners who had come to torment him had backed way. He wondered why...until he saw the blood on his hand from his cough and tasted it in his mouth.

"Oh, no," he said softly. He didn't know what that meant precisely, but he knew it couldn't be good...particularly not if the prisoners were afraid of being near him. _They_ seemed to know what it was. In fact, he heard one run off shouting.

In moments, one of the guards ran up...but not too close and Tim could tell that whatever was going on was probably very bad news. He began shouting at the other prisoners and Tim noticed that a few reluctantly raised their hands. More shouting and they moved away from the general population. Then, the guard pointed at Tim.

"You! Come!"

...and it was English he spoke. Tim was shocked, and that meant that it was even worse. They were making an effort to be sure he understood. Whatever he had was contagious. Tim staggered off after him, noticing that for the first time, everyone was leaving him alone. He almost laughed. Figured that the only way he could go through a day without being attacked was if he was ill.

To Tim's surprise, the guard led him back to the solitary confinement cells.

"Get in there." He pointed.

"What's going on?" Tim asked and then began to cough again...and coughed up more blood.

"Get inside!" the guard ordered and backed away.

Tim walked into the cell and sank down onto the pallet. He caught a brief glimpse of the guard slamming the door closed. Then, he was alone in the dark again.

...but not for long.

"_Oh, Timothy, you're in trouble."_

Tim hacked again. "Yeah...I think I figured that out on my own, Ducky."

"_This is not a good place to be getting sick."_

"Again...obvious. I must be really sick if I'm putting _those_ words in your mouth." Another coughing fit. "I...usually can't predict what you're going to say. It's never obvious."

"_Well, Timothy, since I am, in effect, merely an extension of your own mind, then it makes more sense for you to be able to predict what I am going to say...since it is what _you_ are going to think."_

"That's more like Ducky."

"_I do my best."_

"I'm in big trouble, aren't I."

"_It must be something very contagious."_

"The real you would know what it was, just by my symptoms."

"_Which are?"_

"Fever...cough...pain in my chest. Coughing up blood. I was hot and sweaty last night, but now, I'm freezing. Ring any bells?"

"_Probably for the real me, Timothy...but I'm afraid that _you_ do not know what you have. Therefore, neither do I."_

Tim laughed...and then, coughed. "It must be worse than a bad cold...even worse than the flu."

"_Yes, that would seem to be the case."_

There were voices out in the hall. Then, the door opened, revealing a man wearing a face mask. He leaned over Tim and motioned for him to cough. That was easy enough...and he brought up more blood. The man nodded and took a sample. Tim figured he must be a doctor. He took a chance.

"What do I have?"

The doctor didn't answer, but Tim saw kind concern in his eyes before he stood and walked away. The door clanged shut behind him, plunging the small cell back into darkness.

"He wanted a sample of whatever I was coughing up."

"_I believe that would be a bad sign of things to come."_

"I'm afraid you're right."

Right or wrong, it would be more than a day before Tim learned anything more. He was left in the solitary confinement cell and while he heard more people being brought in as well, no one opened his door. He was feeling worse and worse with the chills and fever continuing throughout the night. The next morning, the door opened and they gestured for him to come out. The guards had masks over their mouths and noses. Tim was prodded to walk toward the showers. Once there, they made him strip down to nothing. This had happened often enough that it no longer embarrassed him. Besides, with how crappy he felt, there wasn't much chance of anything being a problem beyond his illness. They hosed him down, nearly knocking him over with the force of the water. No one came within ten feet of him.

Shivering because of genuine chill, Tim was left standing in the shower while he dried. A few minutes later, the guards returned with clean clothes. They weren't new, but they were at least clean. His head was shaved again by one very reluctant guard. All through this process, he was coughing.

It seemed as though it took hours for them to make him clean. Finally, they finished and forced him back to the solitary cell. He collapsed onto the pallet, coughing uncontrollably, exhausted by all the exertion.

It was a day after that that he finally had someone come in who would talk to him. At that point, he was coughing almost continuously and thus had been getting very little sleep. He was so exhausted that he just lay limply on the pallet. When the door opened, he cracked his eyes open.

"You are...very sick, Timon." The voice was slightly muffled but he recognized it all the same.

He squinted in the light. "Esosa?" he asked and coughed.

The older woman knelt down in front of the pallet. "Yes. They are...letting me...help you get better."

Tim tried to sit up, leaning heavily on one arm.

"What do..." He fell back to the pallet as another coughing fit seized him. "...do I have?"

"Tuberculose."

"Tuberculosis?" Tim was frightened. His only experience with that was in reading stories about how many people died of it during the 19th century...and then that guy a couple of years before who had flown with TB and everyone was afraid that he had spread it around. "What's going to...happen?"

"I will...help you. The...doctor will give me...medicine for you."

"It's contagious."

Esosa didn't answer. Her English comprehension was better than her speaking ability but still, she stumbled over words and sometimes could not understand what he said.

"You could get it," he said.

"Yes, but...I will be..." She stopped in frustration, not knowing the right words. "I will not get it."

"What...about your family?"

"They know. They wish they can come, too...but only I am...to come."

"You should...stay home...where it's safe. I'll...be okay."

Esosa shook her head and pushed him down...very easily. "No, Timon. You will not...not alone. You need help from me. No one will come near to you if I do not."

Tim began to cough again, and the pain was worse this time as his lungs tried to turn themselves inside out. He was vaguely aware of Esosa supporting him. When the spell passed, he slump onto the pallet feeling totally wiped out. She wiped the blood off his mouth and then began to mop his forehead with a wet cloth.

"I have the time. You will be more sick than others. They will be fine. You will not."

"Why?"

"Here...many get it, some more, others less. You are not from here. You are not...used to being here. You are weaker. It will be bad for you. Alone...you can die. Let me help."

Tim felt he was hardly in a position to refuse considering even breathing was causing him difficulties at the moment. Besides, he had to admit that he wanted someone there. The language might be a barrier, but Esosa seemed to know right when he had capitulated.

"Your mama wishes she can be here, I know. I will be your mama and make you well."

"Thank you...gracias...mama." Then, he began to cough again to the point that he began to retch. Esosa helped him as she said and held him tightly, rocking him, singing snatches of an old lullaby.

"_Durmete nino,  
__durmete ya  
__que vene el coco  
__y te comerá."_

She only left his side at night when she was forced to go.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

_One month later..._

"Yes, I _know_ that Ms. Crawshaw has been away. That's why I'm calling," Tony said irritably. "To see if she's back." He grumbled under his breath.

"You could threaten to strangle him again, Ziva," Abby said. "That seemed to get him moving last time."

"Well, when do you _expect_ her back? You must have _some_ idea. ...next week? Well, why didn't you just say so?" Tony slammed the phone down. "Idiot."

"Now, Tony, that's not very nice to the idiots," Abby said.

"Put all the McGee stuff away. We have another case," Gibbs said.

"But, Gibbs!" Abby protested.

"Don't even start, Abby. You know the only reason we're being allowed to work on finding McGee is because we're also doing our real jobs. Let's roll."

Ziva sighed as she stood up. They headed toward the elevator together but she paused just before getting on.

"What?" Tony asked.

"Was it this way for you when I was in Somalia?"

"It was different," Tony said. "I don't know which one was worse; so don't ask."

"It does not matter which was worse. I just know that this is awful." She got on the elevator and watched the doors close.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim lay on his pallet, listening to Esosa arguing loudly with the guards outside his door. She was angry, no doubt about that. She'd been trying to teach him Lugniapi, but he had to admit that languages weren't his strong suit. He could get by, but his mind didn't exactly feel as though it was in peak condition anyway.

He definitely caught the word _malado_ which meant _sick_. Esosa was using it over and over again. She was furious. He tried to understand, but they were all speaking so quickly that it was impossible to catch more than a word or two. He guessed that he was the topic of conversation. Finally, he heard a pounding on the door and then it was yanked open. Tim squinted in the harsh light.

"Sannu, Tim," Esosa said, her voice still angry. "Wasea," she muttered under her breath. She no longer had to wear a mask as Tim was coughing very little.

"What's wrong, Esosa?"

She shook her head and knelt down in front him, setting out his food for the day along with his daily dose of the TB medication. The pills (and there were three he had to take) were unpleasant, one of them as large as a pill meant for a horse. Tim always felt a little sick from taking them, but as they seemed to be curing his dominating illness, he didn't feel he could complain about that. Still, the force of her movements told him that whatever the argument had involved, she wasn't happy about the outcome.

"Esosa," he said again. He paused to cough, but it wasn't nearly so painful and the bloody sputum had long since gone. "Que pasa, mama?"

She laughed at him.

"Oh, Timon. I wish you are able to speak Lugniapi...or I wish that I am able to speak English better. It is...difficult to tell."

Tim leaned forward. "Tell me. I'll try to help."

"They do not wish to continue giving you these." She held out one of the pills. "They say you are well and that is all you will get."

"I am pretty much better," Tim said. "Why waste medication when I don't need it?" He coughed a couple of times. "I can see why they'd want to stop."

"You are not almost better. You have a long time before you are better."

"I don't understand."

"You still have tuberculose inside you. It takes...time. More than this time."

"More than a month? Why? I thought the germs would be dead by now."

She shook her head. "These...germs?"

Tim nodded.

"I have five children. All had tuberculose during the bad sickness many years ago. People came from off Lugniapo and gave us medicine. We all took the medicine for many months. Not one. Many. I ask them why when we feel better. They say that without the medicine, the tuberculose comes back...and it can be worse than it was first. ...and that alguma vez..." She stopped and smiled at her slip. "...sometimes the medicine does not work when it comes again. You can die from tuberculose, Timon. I do not want that. We are why you are here. We do not want you to die."

Tim shook his head and reached for her, taking her hand and holding it against his cheek.

"No, Esosa. No, it's not your fault. It's my fault...my fault that you lost your daughter...my fault that this has happened. You are not to blame."

"You are not to blame, Timon. Not ever. There are many others who are to blame." She sighed. "You should eat and take your medicine. I will do what I can to be sure that you get it again. They are not...to let me be here with you now. Today is the last day."

"They'll probably move me out of here soon anyway. You couldn't be with me in the prison. ...but...you know where I'll be." He laughed but then dropped his head, suddenly feeling the weight of where he was, the horror that lay ahead of him. "They probably won't...let me out of here...anytime soon." He began to shake, trying to hold in the betraying tears. He could see time stretching out ahead of him...and all he could see was the prison. Even if he _could_ conceivably escape from here, he would still be stuck on Lugniapo...where he'd be pursued...without a passport...without any chance of getting help.

Then, without warning, he was being rocked in Esosa's arms.

"You may cry, Timon. Here, you may cry. No one will see. It is safe to cry here. You may be...afraid. It is all right."

Feeling weak, afraid, almost hopeless, Tim began to sob as he put his own arms around his surrogate mother, wishing there was something that could be done.

"Yes, Timon. Cry. It is all right. I am here, yaro."

It was the first time he'd felt safe enough to let down his guard. All the fear that had been bound up inside him came out. He cried too much. It made him cough, and the coughing was enough to make him stop crying. However, even when he stopped, Esosa kept rocking him. She began to hum although she didn't sing the words to the lullaby.

Finally, he sat up and tried to smile.

"That reminds me of a song my mom used to sing to me when I was young."

"What was it?"

"It was just a song from a musical. It was called 'Summertime'."

"Do you know it?"

"Yeah. I do. Haven't thought about it for years."

"Will you sing it for me?"

Tim laughed. "I couldn't...I couldn't sing it. This...isn't the right place for it."

Esosa leaned forward. "This is the best place for it, Timon."

Tim shook his head. "No. Not now."

"All right. I am to go, but I will try to come back."

"Thank you, Esosa."

"It is right to do."

"But you're doing it. Thank you."

Esosa just smiled and left the room. Tim ate and then took his pills. He hid the bottle of water she had left for him. Leftover food and water had a way of disappearing in this place.

They put him back with the regular prison population the next day. No one came near him.

He wasn't allowed to sleep on his cot.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_One week later..._

Lyndi Crawshaw played the long-suffering heroine well. "I must say that I have _not_ been impressed with my treatment by NCIS. _I'm_ the one with deadlines which have long since passed. _I'm_ the one who has done all within my power to make sure that, should Timothy be alive, he still will be permitted to publish. ...and yet, here you are treating me _again_ like a criminal."

"Ms. Crawshaw," Tony said, striving for patience, "we just need to speak with you about McGee and his book. You're not under arrest or even under suspicion. We just need some information."

She gave a long sigh. "About what? Someone else you want to accuse me of killing, Agent DiNozzo?"

Tony stifled a sigh of his own.

"We have some questions about McGee."

"About Timothy? You're going to accuse me of kidnapping him now?"

"Ms. Crawshaw!"

Lyndi's eyebrows raised slightly. "Very well. What do you want to ask me that you didn't ask me when he first went missing? I already told you that he was planning on setting his next book in Lugniapo."

"Yes," Ziva said. "Now, we want to know why."

"Why?"

"Yes."

"Why would you think _I_ know that? I'm not an author, Agent David. I just corral them. They do the writing."

"You knew what McGee was planning for his next book. Weren't you at all curious about _why_ he chose Lugniapo?"

"It's been nearly a year, Agent DiNozzo. Whatever curiosity I may have had has long since waned."

"A year?"

"Yes. He came to me with the idea about a year ago, I think."

"Do you know why?"

"Not a clue. Let me check my planner." She leaned forward and pressed the speaker on her phone. "Todd!"

The door opened. "Yes, Ms. Crawshaw?"

"Do you remember if Timothy said anything about why he was choosing Lugniapo for his next book?"

"It was a few weeks after the book signing in Baltimore...if I remember correctly. He said one of his fans was from there."

"Do you remember the name of the fan?"

"I don't think he said. Will there be anything else, Ms. Crawshaw?"

"No. Thank you, Todd."

"Yeah...thanks...Todd," Tony said, grinning maliciously. Todd flushed and closed the door quickly.

"I remember that now. Timothy said that the woman had..."

"Woman?"

"Yes. She had talked to him about Lugniapo after a book signing and that what she had told him made him want to set the next Tibbs mystery on that island. I wasn't enamored of the idea to begin with but he had a great premise."

"Has he written anything?"

"Only a chapter or two."

"One chapter or two?" Ziva asked.

"I haven't looked for quite some time." She stood up and walked to the filing cabinet. "Oh. Two chapters."

"May we take them?"

"Will I get them back?"

"If it's only two chapters, what good will that do you?"

Lyndi smiled. "If Timothy never comes back, I can release these two chapters as a final tribute. The public will eat it up, even if there's no story established."

"That seems rather callous," Ziva said.

"I have responsibilities. Your responsibility is to solve crimes. Mine is to sell books. Anything else?"

"Did McGee ever mention a name?" Tony asked.

"If he did, I've long since forgotten it. That's not likely. I wouldn't have asked and he wouldn't have volunteered. It's unimportant information."

"Thank you, Ms. Crawshaw. It's been...a pleasure."

"Likewise, Agent DiNozzo."

"Do you have any of his notes?"

"No. You would have to look at his place for that. I only get the finished product."

Tony and Ziva left the office, both feeling slightly dirty.

"I do _not_ like that woman," Ziva said. "She is a terrible excuse for a human being."

"She gave us more than we had. I wish we had thought of doing this sooner."

"We were going through the government before. Now we are going through it our own way."

"Let's stop at McGee's place first. See if we can find his notes. I think we need to find the woman he met. Figures that the Probie would get a girlfriend who sends him off to a wartorn island."

"We do not know that she is a girlfriend. Surely, we would have noticed if he had one. McGee has not been able to keep these things secret."

"Good point. Still..."

As they drove away, Ziva brought up the point that they had been avoiding.

"It has been a year since he got the idea to go to Lugniapo, even if he has not been missing for that long. What chance do we have of finding this woman?"

"Depends on what we find at McGee's place," Tony said with a false heartiness that fooled neither of them.

They were losing hope.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

_Two weeks later..._

A car pulled up to the from of the prison. It was a nice car and the people who got out weren't the kind of people who normally showed up at Sirja prison. However, they were definitely in charge kinds of people. The guards out front, Alevaro and Cadeo, immediately straightened to attention when they came. The guard spoke Lugniapi but the visitors spoke refined Spanish.

"Necesitaremos una oficina."

"Si, caballero." Alevao hesitated about asking questions, but it seemed innocuous enough. "Porcuano tempo?"

"Por el tiempo que sea necesario," the man snapped.

"Si, caballero."

"Haz el favor de traernos a Timothy McGee."

"Aquen?"

"Timothy McGee."

One of the other visitors added, "El es el único hombre no de color en esta prision. Seguramente tu sabes quien es."

"Oh, si, caballero. Me encargar deque lo tragan enseguda."

"Muy bien. Pero no le digas porqué."

"Nolo haré caballero. Algomas, caballero?"

"No, eso será todo."

Alevaro turned to his companion. "Cadeo, lleva anuestros invitados ala oficina delfrente ensegudan!"

"Si, señor!" Cadeo bowed slightly. "Por favor, vengan conmigo, caballeros."

"Gracias guardia."

Alevaro hurried into the prison. He knew where to find Tim.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tony sighed and rubbed his eyes tiredly. "This is pointless. There's nothing in McGee's notes or his chapters that indicates who this woman might be. We can't find his planner. We don't have his phone. If they communicated by email he didn't keep any of them." He sighed. "You were right, Ziva. A year is too long."

"No!" Abby protested. "No, we can't give up so easily! If this woman was from Lugniapo, then wouldn't she have to be registered as an immigrant or something?"

"Not if she came here illegally, Abby," Tony said.

"Maybe they were friends!"

"Maybe they were. If so, would she not have come to us when Tim failed to return from Lugniapo?" Ziva pointed out.

"Maybe. Maybe she just doesn't know who she should come to. After all, if she only knew Tim as an author, maybe she doesn't have a clue who he is beyond Thom Gemcity."

"That's true."

"What do you suggest we do about that, Abby?" Gibbs asked.

Abby stood up and started pacing. Suddenly she stopped. "Okay, I have this crazy, crazy idea."

"I'm afraid to ask," Tony said.

"What if we put an announcement out that we're looking for a Lugniapi woman who spoke with Tim last year and said that we are trying desperately to find him. If she's watching TV and if she cares about him at all, maybe she'll call! We could ask the McGees to do it. I know they would."

"That's your big plan? Hope that this nebulous person watches television, happens to catch this announcement and decides to call us?"

"Do you have any better ideas, Tony?" Abby challenged.

"No, but that doesn't mean that this idea doesn't stink."

"Burning the midnight oil, are we?" Ducky asked as he and Jimmy came into the bullpen. "Searching for a new angle on the search for Timothy?"

"Yeah, Ducky...and not getting very far," Tony said.

"My idea is good!"

"Only in comparison to the other ideas...because we don't have any other ideas."

"Hey!" Abby stood up, arms akimbo, ready to attack.

"Hey!" Gibbs said more loudly. "Knock it off, both of you! This isn't helping. In fact, we're calling it a night. Go home."

There was an immediate protest.

"No, Boss! We still have time!"

"Gibbs, we can figure something out!"

"I _like_ my idea!"

"Quiet! You're not going to get anything done in this state. Go home. Get some rest and come back tomorrow."

Gibbs glared at them until the rebellion faded and the others gathered their things, walking toward the elevator together.

"Mr. Palmer, why don't you go on? I'll be along in a few minutes."

Jimmy nodded silently and left. As soon as they were alone, Gibbs sighed and slumped back in his chair.

"That bad, Jethro?"

"Worse. It seems like the harder we try to get somewhere in this case, the less we end up knowing. We know that McGee apparently met someone after a book signing. They talked enough that McGee decided to set his next book on Lugniapo...and even go there to get firsthand experience with the place. We know that he had started writing the book already but hadn't yet introduced any of the Lugniapi characters. We know that he got special permission to go to the capital city, something that is fairly rare for non-natives. We know he went there. We know that he arrived safely because he called his parents and he called Abby once to tell her about his tour of Aolano. No matter what the Lugniapi government says, we know that McGee didn't make it to Brazil, which should have been his first connection on his way back. We called the Cumbica International Airport in Sao Paulo and they checked their records. He never came through. We know nothing else. It's been five months, Ducky." He sighed again and shook his head.

"You fear that you will never know anything more?"

"Exactly...but we can't give up, not if there's the slightest chance that McGee is still alive."

"He is still alive, Jethro."

"How do you know that?"

"Because if he were dead, we would be given his body. If he is alive, that means they have some use for him and will take at least _some_ care in keeping him alive. Not much, perhaps, but some. Enough to make sure he survives."

"Survives. ...McGee's never been the strongest person on the team. He's not the one who deals with merely surviving."

"You think he'll crack?"

"I think it's more likely than the possibility that we'll find him hale and hearty."

Ducky smiled. "You should follow your own orders, Jethro. Go home. Sleep."

Gibbs nodded and stood. As the two of them headed for the elevator, Ducky had one more thing to say.

"Timothy is stronger than you think he is. If there is the slightest possibility that he can survive, he will. I have no doubt of that."

"But _is_ there a possibility?"

"I can only pray that there is."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

The doors opened and Tim allowed everyone else to go out first. They were mostly leaving him alone, still afraid of getting sick themselves, although he didn't count on that lasting forever. Esosa had managed somehow to get him pills which she brought every day with the food Tim was so dependent on. He still didn't feel quite like himself. There was an undercurrent of weakness that just wouldn't go away. He still was being forced to sleep on the floor by the window, as far away from the others as possible. He didn't know if it was just lingering effects of the TB or if it was something else. He didn't know what he _wanted_ it to be.

Out in the sun, he took a deep breath and walked to his chosen spot in the yard. It was right by the fence. He sat down with his back to the fence and looked at the prison. The building was old. He wondered what it had been originally...or if it had been built to be a prison. Based on the way they were crammed together in the larger rooms rather than in small cells, he guessed that it had been something else first, maybe a fort. It would be ironic if it had been something to keep people out and was now something to keep people in.

Tim leaned back and closed his eyes, trying to pretend he wasn't where he knew he was. The sun felt nice enough and there was no sound indicating someone attacking him. It was moments like this that were the worst for him...because he knew when he opened his eyes once again that he would still be imprisoned and it would only feel worse than it had before.

"You!"

Ah, his new name. Tim sighed and opened his eyes, trying not to see the fence. He watched as one of the guards approached him and gestured for him to stand up.

"Venga!"

Tim nodded and got up. He assumed that he was being put in solitary again, although he couldn't think why he would be this time. He hadn't done anything and he wasn't sick. What other reason could there be?

The guard didn't lead him to solitary. He led him, instead, to a room Tim had never seen. There were five men in the room, all well-groomed, well-fed. Tim felt a thrill of fear. He recognized one of them. He had only seen the man once, but he recognized him all the same.

"Sit down." The voice was slightly accented, but these were people who had been well-educated in multiple languages, probably not in the Lugniapi school system...which was nearly non-existent at this point.

Tim sat.

"You've been here for a while."

Tim said nothing.

"Enjoying yourself?"

He was afraid, but he felt so little desire to keep himself alive that he didn't rein in his tongue.

"If this is how you treat tourists, no wonder your economy is in the toilet."

"Ah, wit."

"Are you ready to leave?"

"Yes," Tim said, trying to betray nothing more than an answer to the question.

"We can arrange that."

"How? Why?"

"You just have to tell us what we want to know."

"And what is that?"

"What were you doing with that woman?"

"I didn't do anything!" he said angrily, standing up. "You know it!"

"Sit!"

Tim did so.

"What were you doing with her?"

"She was my state-assigned guide. I was told that I could not leave her side. Where else would I be but with her as ordered?"

"She was a known rebel and you were with her. Tell us what you were doing here on Lugniapo and perhaps we will make your crime disappear."

"I wasn't aware that the truth was so easily manipulated."

"What were you doing on Lugniapo?"

"I was researching my next book."

"What were you _really_ doing here?"

"I was researching my book," Tim said again. "I'm getting quite a bit of material for it, actually."

"So, you refuse to tell us your real reason for being here?"

"I told you my real reason for being here. You just won't accept it. ...or else you don't really have any intention of letting me go."

"I guess you don't want to leave Lugniapo as you said."

"I do want to leave...but not if I have to lie to do so. I won't implicate innocent people just to cater to your paranoia."

"You were with a known rebel, in an area known to be a meeting place for those who would take down the government, and you claim that all you were doing was research?"

"Yes."

"Perhaps a few more months might change your mind."

Tim stood up and looked at them. "Waseato."

He could see that he had both surprised them _and _insulted them. He hoped for a return to solitary, but all that happened was that they called for the guard to come back in.

The one Tim recognized stood up as Tim was turning to leave. "I understand that you were ill. It would be unfortunate if you were to relapse." He gestured and the guard pulled Tim from the room and back to the yard.

He walked back across the yard, furious...more angry than he'd been since he'd been sent here. Before, even though he had known that his confinement was intentional, he had looked on it as some sort of mistake...due to his inability to speak the language and explain himself. They knew. That man was there...part of the government. They knew that he was innocent and they had sent him here anyway...wanting to know things that he couldn't tell them. Just as he was ready to scream, the bell rang to signal the visitors. If it weren't for the fact that he was hungry (for food and for kindness), he would have stayed out in the yard trying to come to grips with the knowledge that he'd never be let out of here...but he couldn't do it. Instead, he got up and walked back to the building, following the crowd to the long line of visitors. All of the prisoners were getting food. Some of the people who visited also gave food to other prisoners to whom they had no connection. He looked for Esosa and saw her hand a small loaf of bread to one of the newer prisoners. She smiled at him and murmured something and then looked up and saw Tim. Her smile faded and became concerned. She moved down the fence toward him and Tim walked toward her.

"Timon, what is wrong?"

"Nothing, Esosa. Nothing."

"Yes, there is. I can see it...in your eyes. You are angry."

"It's nothing, Esosa."

He could see that she wanted to persist but she didn't.

"I have bad news, Timon."

"What's that?"

"They would not let me bring you the medicine."

Tim thought he could feel no worse than he did...but he had been wrong. This was worse. Infinitely so.

"They even searched the food to be sure that I did not bring any for you. I do not know why."

Tim knew why. The relapse comment was now crystal clear.

"I am so sorry, Timon. I cannot...buy things that will be taken away."

"No, I understand. It's all right. Don't bother trying if they're just going to confiscate it. There's no point."

Esosa reached through the bars. "Timon, it does not mean you will get sick again. Not right now."

"...but I will eventually."

"Yes...maybe."

"Probably."

"Yes. I am sorry."

Tim shook his head. "No. Don't apologize for something you can't change." He felt as though his throat was closing up but he struggled to keep himself in control. He would not cry in front of the other prisoners. "It's all right."

"It is not," Esosa said, angry herself. "It is wrong. It is not right, Timon. You should not be here. They are..."

Tim reached out and covered her mouth with his hand. "No, mama," he said softly. "Don't say more. You have done more than I could have expected. It is enough."

"Not enough for you, yaro."

The bell rang again. "Good-bye, Esosa. Thank you for the food."

"Adeus, Timon."

They were herded back into the cells. Tim was pushed to his space by the window and watched the clouds roll in.

It rained all that night.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Translation from Spanish and Lugniapi (Special thanks to Lady Aracne!):_

"We will need an office." _(Necesitaremos una oficina)_

"Yes, sir." "For how long?" _(Si, caballero.) (Porcuano tempo?)_

"As long as it takes." _(Por el tiempo que sea necesario.)_

"Yes, sir." _(Si, caballero)_

"Bring us Timothy McGee."_ (Haz el favor de traernos a Timothy McGee)_

"Who?" _(Aquen?)_

"Timothy McGee."_ (Timothy McGee)_

"He is the only white man in this prison. Surely you know who he is." _(El es el único hombre no de color en esta prision. Seguramente tu sabes quien es)_

"Oh, yes, sir. I will have him brought to you at once." _(Oh si, caballero. Me encargar deque lo tragan enseguda)_

"Good. Do not tell him why."_ (Muy bien, Pero no le digas porqué)_

"I won't, sir. Anything else, sir?" _(Nolo haré señor, Algo mas, caballero?)_

"No. That will be all." _(No, eso será todo.)_

"Cadeo, take our guests to the front office at once!" _(Cadeo, lleva anuestros invitados ala oficina delfrente ensegudan!)_

"Yes, sir!" "Please, come with me, sirs." _(Si, Señor,) (Por favor, vengan conmigo, caballeros.)_

"Thank you, guard." _(Gracias guardia)_


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

_One week later..._

"No one has called, Abby. ...because it was a dumb idea," Tony said. He wasn't saying it meanly or even with much spirit. Gibbs had approved the desperate move and the spot had been featured a few times on the major stations, but there had been no call.

"Yeah. You're right," she said glumly. "What are we going to do now?"

"I don't know."

"Yes, all right." Ziva hung up the phone, a stunned look on her face.

"What is it, Ziva?"

"There is someone coming upstairs."

"And?"

"And she says that her name is Marjani. She is from Lugniapo."

Even Gibbs looked up at that. The elevator doors opened revealing a woman in her early thirties, her face showing her Lugniapi origins. She also looked incredibly nervous and distrustful of the people she was approaching.

"Marjani?" Gibbs asked, standing up.

"Yes. I am Marjani. You are looking for me?"

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

The bars were getting to him. In the week since he had met with the illustrious leaders of Lugniapo, Tim had become more and more conscious of the bars, of the confining fence, of the fact that he was a prisoner. Every day, it seemed to bore further into his brain, like a beetle in a diseased tree. He felt so totally helpless that it was making him angry. It wasn't fair. It wasn't right. It was horribly unjust...and there was absolutely _nothing_ he could do about it. He wasn't used to that. He wasn't used to being so alone. Esosa did what she could, but she couldn't get him out of here. No one could. No one could do anything.

The doors opened and Tim surged through the crowd, needing desperately to get out into the open. He was being suffocated. Angrily, he stalked across the yard to the fence. Before he knew it he was there and could go no farther. The fence, the boundary of his entire existence. He stared at it and he felt something indescribable and uncontrollable rise up inside him. He hit the fence as hard as he could. It hurt. He didn't care. He screamed at it and hit it again. Beyond it, he thought he could see Gibbs standing free.

"_This isn't the way to go about it, McGee."_

"I don't care!" Tim shouted as loud as he could. "I don't care! It's not enough! It's not right!" Every declaration was accompanied by a swing at the unforgiving fence. If he had been punching it, he more than likely would have broken his hand but as it was, his entire arm was suffering for Tim's fury and while it hurt, it wasn't breaking anything.

"_Calm down, McGee,"_ Tony said.

"I shouldn't be in here! They lied! It's wrong! Wrong! You hear me?" He was almost screaming and nearly crying in his despair.

Incomprehensible voices filled the void behind him and he didn't care about them. They never were worth listening to. Then, a hand was on his arm. Not a gentle, kind hand. A controlling hand, a confining hand. He whipped around and punched the offender in the face.

It was a guard.

Tim's fury drained out of him all at once, leaving him cold. He had hit a guard. He was in trouble now. A _lot_ of trouble. He felt the hands on his arms and for the first time he didn't want to go into solitary. He didn't want to feel the close walls and so...again for the first time, he fought the arms, dragged his feet.

For the first time, he reacted like a stereotypical prisoner. The guard he'd clocked got up and took one side. They dragged him, kicking and screaming, to the solitary confinement cells, opened the door and tried to get him inside. Tim kept pulling back.

"No! Please, no!"

They shoved him. Hard.

Tim saw it coming, realized what was going to happen but was powerless to stop it. The guards, intent on getting him into the cell (and wanting to punish him for his attack), pushed him so hard that he was thrown inside and headlong into the opposite wall.

He dropped to the floor, but he was unconscious before he reached it.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"You know McGee?"

Marjani looked at them all and seemed very nervous. "I saw the ad on television. You are looking for someone from Lugniapo who knows Tim McGee. I know him. What is it you want to ask me?"

"Will you come with us?" Gibbs asked.

"Where?"

"Just to a conference room. We can sit down."

She considered and then nodded slowly. "Very well."

Gibbs gestured for Abby to stay. Tony and Ziva followed Gibbs as he led Marjani up the stairs. When she sat down, she did so leaning slightly away from them and so Gibbs simply sat across the table to give her more space.

"You know McGee?"

"Yes. I know Tim. I met him last year at a book signing."

"Could you tell us what happened? Do you remember?"

"I remember. I read his books. They helped me learn English better when I first came here. I wanted to thank him." Marjani smiled. "His plot was easy to follow and the characters were interesting. So I could read about them and understand what was happening even when the words were unclear. I came to the end of the signing period and there was no one there except him. I told him about myself a little and he was very interested. We talked for some time."

"And he said he was going to set his next book on Lugniapo?" Tony asked.

"No. That was not for some weeks. He was interested in knowing more about what was happening there...because he did not know, I guess. Lugniapo is not well-known to anyone. I had only been in the United States for a year when I met him."

"What brought you here?" Gibbs asked.

"The coup," Marjani said. "I was on the wrong side."

"What happened?"

"Is this important?"

"To be honest, Marjani, I don't know."

"We just want to find McGee, and it could be anything that will help."

Marjani nodded. "Tim went to Lugniapo because he met me," she said.

"What do you mean?"

"My husband was in charge of education reform when the elected government took office. The government was not perfect. Far from it...but it was elected at least. The people had chosen rather than been forced to accept another ruler. Adan was not someone you would have known. He did not make the news, but he knew that in order to change the way we live, he would have to change the way we think...from the beginning. He advocated many changes. Schools even began to teach English to anyone who wished to learn. It was the first time." She looked down at the table. "He was one of the first to die during the coup. I worked with him in the department of education. I tried to help those who resisted, but the GUL, the Grupo Unido de Lugniapo, moved too quickly. My family helped me to get away from Lugniapo. It was hard, very dangerous...and I do not know if they were found out."

"How did you get here?"

"They got me onto a boat and I went to the archipelago. I applied for refugee status here and was approved. I have a job and applied for a green card last year. I told all this to Tim after I had known him for a little while. That is why he went to Lugniapo."

"I do not understand," Ziva said.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"_Marjani, I had an idea last night."_

"_What? Another character for your book?" Marjani asked with a smile._

"_No. What if I went to Lugniapo and found your family. I could let them know that you're all right and they could send messages back with me."_

_Marjani shook her head. "No, Tim. That would be dangerous. If the GUL discovered..."_

"_I've been wanting to do some onsite research for this book anyway. I could just make it a part of what I was planning. I'll go through the government, get a visa. All I would do is hand off a letter. That wouldn't be suspicious."_

"_It would be if you gave it to the wrong person."_

"_You could let me know who to find."_

"_I do not want to get anyone in trouble."_

"_I wouldn't do that. I would never get your family in trouble...or anyone you care about. Look, you told me where your family lives. I can make arrangements just to see them...interviews with people who live in the area. That's normal for an author...and if I did it all above board, they would know that I'm just a guy doing research."_

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Marjani sighed. "I should not have let him convince me...but I wanted to know that my family was all right."

"Why didn't they come with you?"

"It was hard enough finding a way to get _me_ away...and I was the big danger, being involved in the government and the resistance. With me gone, my family could be safe. And then, Tim was telling me that I could _know_ they were safe. I could not give up that chance."

"Why didn't you tell anyone about this before?" Tony asked. "You must have realized that he was missing."

"I did not have any information about him. I knew that he had another job, but I did not know what it was. I did not have a phone until a few months ago; so we never exchanged numbers. I did have an email address but I did not use it. I waited for him to find me...and I was afraid that something had happened but I did not dare tell anyone."

"Why not?"

Ziva answered for her. "You were afraid of being sent back."

Marjani nodded. "I did not know how it would be seen. If I go back to Lugniapo, I will be killed. My family could be killed or arrested. Too many people could pay the price. I would rather be alone here. One cannot trust the government to do what is right."

"So why now?"

"Because I saw the ad...and I decided that you should at least know why he went to Lugniapo. ...because he met me."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim regained consciousness only reluctantly. His whole body ached and trembled. He groaned and put a shaking hand up to his head only to wince as he touched the large goosegg which had developed. He felt ill as he tried to get up. In the end, he could only drag himself to the pallet and lay on it. He had no idea how long he'd be kept in here this time.

_I hit a guard. I am in such big trouble. I can't believe I hit one of the guards._

"_Darn right you're in trouble, McGee. What were you thinking?"_

Tim looked up at the voice and sighed.

"I wasn't."

"_You weren't, what?"_

"I wasn't thinking, Boss."

"_Darn right you weren't. If you had been thinking you would have realized that you're in the exact same situation you were before and you wouldn't have let panic get the better of you."_

"You're right, Boss," Tim mumbled.

"_I know I'm right. You have to screw your head on straight and stop just reacting to everything that happens."_

"What else can I do?"

"_You can analyze for once."_

"I'll be in here for a while, Boss. ...and I'll probably be punished for hitting the guard."

"_Probably."_

"They probably won't let me die, but they'll take joy in making me miserable."

"_That's right."_

"I'm tired."

"_You probably have a concussion."_

"My head hurts."

"_Well, I don't think that they'll be handing out aspirin, Probie."_

Tim blinked. "Tony?"

"_Hey, don't kill the messenger. You know it's true. ...if you didn't, I wouldn't be saying it."_

"Boss?"

"_I think he stepped out for a bit, Probie."_

Tim blinked again, not that he could see much in the darkness of the cell.

"_You are being weak, McGee."_

The voice had morphed again.

"_A real agent would have been able to avoid the wall."_

"What? Ziva...what?"

His head was pounding and he began hearing snatches of numerous voices, all talking at once, both shouting in his ears and whispering from miles away.

"Stop! Stop! Stop!" Tim shouted, trying to plug his ears to keep the voices away.

"_Make me."_

That voice was very far away, though, and Tim felt himself begin to float into a darkness even thicker than that in which he currently lay.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Marjani...do you think McGee is still alive?"

"I do not know."

"What do you think? Wouldn't they have told us if he was dead?"

Marjani shrugged one shoulder uncomfortably. "It depends."

"On what?" Tony asked.

"If they just killed him, then, yes, they would have told you and given you the body. There is enough crime that Aolano is dangerous. ...but if they took him and tortured him to death, they would wait until...until his body was decomposed so that you could not tell what had killed him."

Tony looked sickened, but he said nothing.

"...but I do not know why they would do that. He would not have the kind of information they would need. If...if so, he is alive and in prison. That would be the only place he could be."

"In prison?"

"Yes. There are a few of them on Lugniapo, and it would not be a good place for him."

"Prison wouldn't be good for the Probie...even here. We've seen him in prison here."

Marjani's brow furrowed in confusion. "This is funny to you?"

"Uh...no."

Ziva glared at Tony. "He is concerned. He is just...Tony."

"And you are Tim's friend?"

"Yes...usually."

"I think he is probably alive, but...I do not see that you can do anything for him. If the GUL will not let you in, they will not let him go. They will not even have to admit that he is there."

"The country is open for tourists again, isn't it?" Gibbs asked.

"Yes, although I am not certain many will be coming back. The closing of the island frightened many away."

Tony looked at Gibbs speculatively. "Are you suggesting that we go on vacation, Boss?"

"We will have to clear with the director, you know."

"I do not understand," Marjani said. "You will risk too much."

"If we go as tourists, how much scrutiny would we be under, Marjani?" Gibbs asked.

"None, if you stay in the tourist areas. If you were to leave the coast, though...you would not get very far."

"What if we had someone helping us?"

"Do you know anyone who works on the coast, Marjani?"

Marjani stood up. "You are asking me to put others in danger."

"No. We are asking for your help to find out what happened to _our_ friend," Ziva said. "It is not free of risk but we will not ask for anything more than a point in the right direction."

"Please, Marjani?" Tony asked. "It's been months. If there is a chance of getting McGee out, we won't risk anyone but ourselves."

"I do not know if this is still true," Marjani said. "He could be gone now."

"What?"

"My younger brother worked as a lifeguard on the beach at Cascheya."

"Where?"

"I can show you. If Hernan is still there...you may ask him. He will be safe and he will know the gossip on the island."

"What if we could get your family out?"

Marjani surprised them by smiling and shaking her head. "You will not get them to leave. My parents love Lugniapo. My sister went to Sao Paulo for school but returned. Alayla would not stay away. Even I wish that I could return. We are Lugniapi and do not wish to be anything else."

"Okay. Marjani, will you help us at least do what we can?"

There was a moment of hesitation and then she nodded. "Yes. I will do what I can...although I do not believe it can be enough."

"We'll make it enough," Gibbs said.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

They didn't bring him food for three days. It was punishment for attacking a guard.

Alevaro was the guard who finally relented. As he walked toward the solitary cell, he noticed that the shouting had stopped...even the mumbling had ceased. The prisoner had been silent for nearly a day. Alevaro wondered if he had died.

"Food!" he shouted and opened the slot. He shoved the simple meal inside and was rewarded with the sound of someone scrabbling on the floor. Then, there was another silence.

Then, a soft hesitant voice. "Thank you. I'm sorry I hit you. Losento."

Alevaro said nothing aloud in response although he was surprised at the small bit of Lugniapi the prisoner had spoken. Still, he did not respond. He simply went back to his post.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

_Two weeks later..._

The plane landed at the Cascheya International Airport. Only a few of the passengers were tourists, but those who fit that description were treated with care. After all the chaos, the closing of the island, the unstable government, tourism was a good way to begin rebuilding. One motley crew gathered their bags and headed to a nearby hotel. They had booked three rooms among them meaning that they were treated _very_ well. It took some doing to convince the staff that they were fine and didn't need any more help.

"Yes, si. Gracias. No, we're fine. Okay. Okay." Tony basically shoved the man out of the room and closed the door. "Man, they're happy we're here."

Gibbs chuckled and knocked on the door between rooms. Ducky came in from one side and Ziva from the other.

"I thought they would never leave," Ziva said.

"We should make sure that they let us check out."

Gibbs opened his bag and began laying out the materials they might need. "We might need to worry about that more than you think."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Don't bother showing up," Tim mumbled. "It's not enough."

"_What's not enough?"_

Tim closed his eyes, not that it mattered.

"You showing up here. I know you're not real...and it just doesn't help anymore. You're not really here, Boss. I only wish you were."

"_Why? What do you think I could do, McGee?"_

"Probably nothing."

"_Then, why bother wanting me here?"_

"I don't know. I don't know anything anymore, Boss." Tim shook his head...but stopped quickly as it set his mind spinning. "It doesn't seem to matter right now. If you were going to find me...you would have already."

"_You might be right."_

"I'm pretty sure I am. ...and my head won't stop spinning."

"_You did meet the wall."_

"And I lost the fight."

"_Pretty badly, I think."_

"Thanks. I really appreciate that."

"_Be honest, McGee. Why do you want me or any of us here?"_

Tim covered his head in his hands, although he didn't know why he bothered. These conversations were all in his head anyway. What did it hurt to be honest with himself?

"_Why, McGee? Just say it."_

"No."

"_Why not?"_

"I can't say it."

"_You mean you don't _want_ to say it. You're perfectly capable."_

"Sometimes, when I think of it, all of my life before being in here seems like a dream. I have no idea how long it's been...but it's been a while. ...probably not more than year...maybe less."

"_Why do you keep imagining us?"_

Tim closed his eyes tightly. "Because I feel so alone. Everyone here...they either ignore me or hate me...Esosa is only here for such a short time." A few tears pooled in the corner of his eye. He blinked and they slid morosely down his cheek. "I want to go home."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Two days later..._

"Have we tanned enough, Jethro?" Ducky asked.

"Ducky," Tony said from his position on the dark sand, "you've been sitting under an umbrella for the last two days. Not that I'm saying I _want_ you to be wandering around the beach in a speedo, but you're not tanning."

Ziva shaded her eyes a little as she looked up from her beach towel. "Hernan is the lifeguard on this beach. We know this. Should we not go and speak to him now?"

Gibbs looked around the beach. There were a few other obvious tourists, but many of the people on the beach were more than likely Lugniapi.

"Carefully, Ziva. We don't want to get him in trouble any more than we want to draw attention onto ourselves."

"Let's just put the message on the photo and one of us can slip it to him," Tony said as he held up a bottle of suntan lotion and shook it suggestively at Ziva. She rolled her eyes.

Gibbs looked up and down the beach. He hadn't been able to find any sign that they were being watched in any way, but he was used to being slightly paranoid when on someone else's home turf.

"Okay, DiNozzo. Go for it."

Tony nodded and fished in the bag, coming up with a map...and a small photograph of five children ranging from age twelve down to an infant. He scrawled a quick message on the back and then winked at Ziva before heading off to the lifeguard chair.

"Hey!" he called. "¿Habla inglés?"

"Yes. What do you need?" His accent was significantly thicker than Marjani's, but he was understandable.

"I was wondering if you could help me out with this." Tony held out the map and he saw Hernan nearly roll his eyes at the supposedly stupid tourist.

"Yes." He came down from the chair. "What is it?"

Tony unfolded the map...revealing the picture of his brothers and sisters. Hernan's eyes widened and he looked at Tony with something like alarm. Tony didn't react.

"See now, I've been trying to make heads or tails of this thing, but..." He flipped the picture over; so that Hernan could read the message. "...it's just so confusing."

Hernan stood silently for a long moment, staring at the message. Tony hoped that it wasn't because his writing was so bad. Then, he took a breath.

"Yes...yes...these maps can be...difficult to read if you are not used to them. Yes," he said again.

"Well, thanks a lot for your help. See you around?" Tony asked.

"Si."

"Good." Tony nodded and gave a jaunty smile. When he got back to the group, he sat down on the sand. "He'll be there tonight."

"Good," Ziva said. "Ducky may not be tanning, but _I_ have seen enough of _your _body to last me for a lifetime."

"Been lookin' hard, have you?" Tony asked with a leer.

_Thwack!_

"Thanks, Boss."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Who are you...and why do you have my sister's picture?"

Tony looked up. "Hey, Hernan, have a seat! Dinner's on...Gibbs."

Hernan sat, but he did not smile. "Who are you?"

Gibbs leaned forward, his voice low, but not a whisper. "My name is Jethro Gibbs. This is Ducky Mallard, Ziva David, and the joker is Tony DiNozzo. We're from DC. We're members of the Naval Criminal Investigative Service."

Hernan looked at them. "Why are you here? You are not here for a vacation, not if you are telling me all this."

"No. We're not," Ducky said. "We're here searching for a missing comrade."

"Why do you think he is here?"

Ziva shook her head. "You misunderstand. We _know_ he is here. What we do _not_ know is whether or not he is alive...and if alive, where he is being held."

"Why do you think I would know?"

"Because Marjani seemed to think you would," Gibbs said.

Hernan looked at the bartender and signaled to him. Tony stiffened slightly, but didn't show his relief when a waiter came over and set a drink down. As soon as he was gone, Hernan took a long swallow.

"The bartender knows me. He knows what I always drink here. If I did not order anything, he would be suspicious...or at least, he would think about my presence." A deep breath. "Who is this man that you are searching for? Why would my sister send you to me? I have not seen her in a long time."

Gibbs pulled out a photo and slid it over. "Timothy McGee. He came here to do some research...and to find out if you guys were okay."

Hernan choked on his drink and nearly spilled what was left in the glass. "You...You are here to find _him_?" he asked.

"Yes. You know who he is?"

Hernan's laugh was incredulous. "Yes. I know who he is. My mother has been visiting him in the Sirja prison for the last six months."

"Prison? He's alive, then?" Tony asked.

"Si...at least, I assume that is still the case. I am sure that mi mama would say if he was not. She has almost adopted him into our family...or would if he were not in prison. I have not spoken to them for a couple of weeks."

"Where is Sirja Prison?" Gibbs asked urgently.

"About midway between Cascheya and Aolano. It was a fort once, before the revolutions. Now, it is a prison. It is a horrible place...for anyone."

"Could we–?"

"You cannot go there!" Hernan interrupted. "You cannot leave the coast! Tourist visas are only good for here in Cascheya. If you leave..."

"Surely, they're not always watching us."

"No...but..."

"Could we speak to your mother?" Gibbs interrupted. "We have to get him out."

Hernan now looked truly alarmed. "You do not know what you are saying! You are crazy! Loco! You will get us _all_ killed!" He stood up and walked out of the bar.

"All?" Tony repeated. "Who else does he know who's been killed?" He made as if to stand up, but Ziva stopped him.

"Let me. A woman going after a man will be less...obvious." She smiled and began a rather alluring walk out the door.

Once in the tropical darkness, however, Ziva's stride turned purposeful. She stopped for a moment to listen for any movement and then headed back toward the beach. She saw Hernan striding along near the water.

"Hernan! Esperar!"

He stopped and turned around. "You speak only Spanish," he said.

"Yes, that is true. I do not know the dialect here. You understood me, did you not?"

"What do you want?"

"We need your help, Hernan. We would not ask if we could do it ourselves...but we do not know this place. You do. Your mother knows where our friend is being held. This is information we need."

"You are asking me to risk more of my family dying."

"Who else has died?"

"My sister. She was killed just over six months ago."

"Why do you think this will happen if you help us?"

Hernan looked down at the black sand and then met her eyes. He, like many of the Lugniapi, bore the unmistakable signs of generations of marriage (or at least procreation) between the Spanish who had eventually wrested control of the island from French and Portuguese and the African slaves who had been brought the Lugniapi to work the land. It was the combination of dark and light that could be seen in his dark brown eyes and his lighter brown hair, all with the strange coloring of his skin which was much too dark to be Spanish and yet too light to be purely African. And then, when he lifted his head, the light from the restaurants lining the beach caught his eyes and there were pinpoints of lighter brown in them.

"Hernan, what would make you think that we would risk your life?"

"I suppose that no one would have told you."

"Told us what?"

"Your friend, Timon, was put in prison for killing my sister. In the eyes of this land, he is a murderer."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

"McGee? A murderer? That is impossible," Ziva said.

Hernan surprised her by nodding. "He is innocent, of course. The government used his presence as a way of getting rid of the crime. ...at least my parents do not believe that Timon is guilty...and I believe them."

"But you are not sure yourself?"

Hernan shrugged again. "He was there. He did not say what happened, not in _any _language, and he has not _ever_ said what happened. ...and no matter what happened, my sister is still dead. She will not return." He looked as though he would leave again but then sighed. "...but my mother would not approve of leaving a man in prison. She would also not approve of me leaving you to try and help Timon on your own. I will call her. She and my father may come for a visit. Not right away. That would be too strange. ...but I will call. I will let you know when they arrive."

"You are not happy about doing this."

"No. I am not. I feel that it will be too dangerous. You are not from here. You do not understand what this government is like, what they are willing to do to keep their positions. We all know that they will only last so long before another revolt will happen. We know this. So do they, but they are determined to last as long as possible and so they will...step on anyone who dares to question. _That_ is why my family has been torn to pieces. It has always been this way. I fear it will never change. Those who try to change it are dead. Like my sister. Like my brother-in-law. I will let you know when my parents come."

Hernan turned and walked away and Ziva let him go, feeling some sort of kinship with him in the world in which he lived.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Two days later..._

A storm moved in early in the morning, drenching all of Lugniapo in heavy rains. No one went out to the beach. The surf was stirred up to dangerously high waves. Being kept indoors, the NCIS crew made preparations...for whatever might be coming. They had carefully checked every day to be sure that no one was trying to track their movements, listen in on their conversations. So far, it seemed as though they were being taken only for tourists. There was a timetable on which they were working, however. They had three weeks left before their opportunity would pass them by. At the time, it had seemed easy, but with every delay, they became more and more worried.

Ziva had taken to assembling and disassembling the weapons they had managed to smuggle in their luggage.

There was a flash of lightning and the lights flickered.

"You know," Tony said suddenly, "this is the bad part in all the horror movies."

Ziva tossed the recently reassembled gun onto the bed. "What is? The rain?"

"The storm," Tony corrected. "It's in most of the movies. Lightning flashes...there's a crash of thunder. ...and then, there's a knock at the door. Someone stupid always goes and opens it...letting in the killer and they die."

The thunder rumbled in the distance and there was a knock at the door.

"Aha! See?"

Ziva rolled her eyes and got up. "I will get it."

Tony flopped down on the bed. "There's a serial killer on the other side. Don't say I didn't warn you."

Ziva didn't dignify him with an answer. Instead, she checked through the peephole and then opened the door.

"Hernan! Come in."

Instantly, Tony jumped off the bed and knocked on the adjoining door. Gibbs could have been standing on the other side of the door, he opened it so quickly. He and Ducky joined the others in time to see Hernan's parents come in the room.

Hernan looked decidely uncomfortable as he gestured for his parents to come inside.

"These are my parents, Jimeno and Esosa."

There was an awkward moment before Esosa approached.

"Sannu," she said with a genuine smile. "I am Esosa."

"I am Ziva. This is Tony."

"Jethro and that's Ducky."

Jimeno nodded at them. "Sannu. You...are here to..." He stopped talking and was obviously searching for the correct word. "...to _see_ Timon?"

"Yes. Would it help if we spoke Spanish instead?" Gibbs asked. "Ducky doesn't speak Spanish, but the rest of us do."

Jimeno laughed and shook his head.

"We understand English mostly," Esosa explained. "It is just that Jimeno has not...had the time to learn as much as I...and even I am not as good at speaking as Hernan. If you speak clearly, I will understand. I have become better since meeting Timon. Ducky...you are the...the doctor, si?"

"Yes, to all intents and purposes."

"Then, it is better that we speak the language you know. If I get stuck, I will have Hernan explain."

"Very well."

Gibbs nodded and gestured for them to sit. "You know why we wanted to talk to you?"

"Si. You wish to know about Timon. Where he is, what has happened to him."

"We want to get him out."

Jimeno stirred slightly but said nothing. Esosa only nodded.

"Yes, I thought you will want this, but I do not think it is possible."

"Why not?"

"When we got Marjani out," Hernan interjected, "it was a near thing. Luck more than skill...and even then, we were never certain that she was safe."

"Not until Timon came."

"...ehizoque mataran a Alayla," Hernan muttered.

Esosa turned on him angrily. "Así no hables, Hernan! Timon no tene la culpa dela murte d'Alayla, No es su culpa. Les dirás loque dije, tenen que entender."

"Mama, no es uma bena idea!" Hernan protested.

"Esosa," Jimeno said, "deberas confianr enellos tan facilmente? Timon inocent pero nosabemos nada sobr'ellos."

"Amigos de Timon sont, están aquí parasalvarlo. Si queren tener éxito tenen que todo saberlo."

"No sabemos tudo loque, mama!"

"Sabemos lo suficinte, y yo no hablo Inglés lo suficintemente ben comopara decirselos. Tu si. Tu traduciras loque yo diga."

"Pero mamá!"

"Hernán, tu no decidire loque tu madre dice ono dice," Jimeno said sharply.

"Si, Jefe." He looked at the others who had been trying to follow the swift conversation. "I will translate for my mother. She wishes to explain what happened and why."

Esosa leaned forward and began to speak. Every so often, she paused to allow Hernan to translate her words. She was earnest in her concern for Tim, that was obvious. Jimeno let her speak. It seemed that Esosa was really the one who knew Tim, who had interacted with him the most.

"_Hernan told me that you have met Marjani, our daughter."_ Her expression was sad and wistful. _"I'm sure she told you how it came about that she had to leave Lugniapo. Well, with your worry about Timon, you probably understand how we felt, not knowing if she was alive, if she was all right. It had been two years since we had seen her last. Then...one day, our daughter Alayla, brought Timon to our home. She said he was working on a novel, that he wanted to speak to us about our lives here. We are very different from many other Lugniapi families."_

"In what way?" Ducky asked.

Esosa smiled. _"Jimeno is a member of those who are descended from our Spanish conquerors. I am the daughter of former slaves. There are not very many lines that have remained separate, but those who have guard their so-called purity and only allow marriages which will maintain it. We both spoiled that purity by falling in love and marrying. We were fortunate to do so during one of the periods of anarchy. No one was ruling; so no one could prevent us from doing what we wished to do. Both of us were cast out by our families. We have always been poor, and the names we gave to our children reflect their backgrounds. Hernan and Marga are names from Jimeno's family. Marjani and Sahansan are from my family. Alayla...she was always different. I do not remember where her name came from. Jimeno?"_

"It was from mi famila...but not Spanish," he said.

"_Yes, I remember now. ...regardless, we have been different from the beginning...always on the outskirts of other groups. Our children were the first to join the English classes when they were offered. I tried to learn as well, but I did not have enough time. Jimeno, with his work, had less time. We made them practice on us, and so our children can speak English, although the youngest, Marga and Sahansan are not so good as Hernan, Alayla and Marjani are. When the government fell, the classes were stopped and it became dangerous to hold conversations in English unless you were hired by the government. Hernan, as you know, works in an area where his English is important. Alayla was the same."_

"What did she do?" Tony asked. "I'm guessing she wasn't a lifeguard like you."

Hernan shook his head. "No. She was not. She worked in Aolano most of the time."

"Doing what?"

Esosa took up the narrative again, although it seemed to pain her this time. _"Alayla worked for the government, the new government. She was an English translator. Her job was to translate English documents and English broadcasts into Lugniapi. On the rare occasions that someone from elsewhere came here, she was often chosen to be their guide during the visit."_

Gibbs suddenly got it, but before he or the others could say anything, Esosa nodded, blinking back tears.

"_Yes. Alayla was Timon's guide. He was with her when she died, but we don't know what happened to her. Timon has never been able to say."_

"Do you know _why_ she was killed?"

"_No, we have never been shown anything that would indicate a reason. ...but the government was probably behind it somehow."_

"Then, how was he convicted? What was the evidence?"

Jimeno gave a bark of laughter. He put an arm around Esosa. He nodded to Hernan to translate for him.

"_There was no need for evidence."_

"But wait...I'll admit that I'm not an expert on Lugniapi law, but...but surely there are rights for the accused in your constitution or whatever."

"_Yes. There are...but since the coup, there is another law. If a member of the government determines that the accused is obviously guilty, then there is no trial. One of our leaders is in charge and he determines only what the punishment will be. The government decided that, because Timon was found with Alayla's body, that he was guilty and would be duly punished for it. We tried to protest, but there was nothing we could do. What we have done is all we could do."_

"What is that?" Ziva asked.

Esosa squeezed Jimeno's arm to signal that she was ready to speak again.

"_We found out that he was being taken to Sirja prison and I have gone every day to make sure he gets food."_

"Food? They don't feed the prisoners?"

"_No. The prisoners are not fed. They receive only what is necessary to be sure that there are no disease outbreaks that might endanger others and so that it is not too unpleasant a place for the guards. They are not treated for injury and they do not receive food. It is up to those who visit them to bring them food. I have done so. When he is in solitary confinement, I cannot be sure that he gets it, but he must get some of it. Some of the guards do not like him. You see...here on Lugniapo, the white people are...looked down on. We are taught from a very young age that it is the fault of the Caucasians that our lot is so hard. Some never question that teaching. That also worked against Timon in his trial. Everyone was disposed to believe the worst of him."_

"What aren't you telling us?" Gibbs asked. "There's something more, isn't there."

Esosa nodded, blinking slowly. She sighed. _"Yes. You are right. There is more. It has been very hard on Timon in the prison. He became...very ill."_

"With what?" Ducky asked.

"_Tuberculosis. He got it almost two months ago. It was so bad that they actually allowed me to help him and he received medication...but not enough."_

"He's dead?"

"No! No!" Esosa said, reverting to English in her rush to dismiss that thought. "He is alive. I promise. ...but they did not let me give him the medicine for the time he needs it. It takes many months to cure tuberculose, but they will not let me. He is not well, but he is alive."

"Could we go to the prison and see him?"

"I do not know...but it will do you no good in this time anyway."

"Why?"

"Because he is in solitary again. I was able to find out that it will be another ten days before he is let out."

"But when he is," Gibbs asked, "would I be permitted to see him?"

"If you can make it there. Sirja prison is not a tourist place," Esosa said with a sad smile. "If you are caught going there, it will be trouble for everyone. They will know who you wish to see."

"And there's no chance of getting him pardoned, is there," Tony said. It was barely a question.

"No. If you did not even know where he was, they will not admit that he is here and they will not let you take him away. They will kill him before they will let you take him."

Gibbs nodded. "Then, we're going to have to find another way. If we can get to him, we have a way of getting him off the island, but we'll have to get him out of prison first, and we're kind of on a tight schedule."

"We will help you in any way we can, but we cannot help him escape. I will not stop you...and I will hope that you succeed, but I have still have family here, and I cannot risk them. Do you understand?"

"Yes. I understand. We'll take whatever help you can give us. We have ten days. Let's make the most of them."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Ten days later..._

The door opened and Tim was almost blinded by the light. It made his now-omnipresent headache even worse. The guard who let him out was not one sympathetic to the plight of the prisoner. Tim was urged to stand by a sharp kick. Quickly, he scrambled to his feet and stumbled out into the hallway. The light wasn't as bright as he had initially thought, but it was bad enough. Tim felt ill, probably because he hadn't been given anything to eat for two days. Well, at least he was out now and could get something from Esosa. It wouldn't be enough. It never was, but it was better than nothing...interspersed with rainwater.

He was prodded toward the bathing room. Tim supposed that he must reek. He had become inured to his own stench over the past few weeks. As he walked through the halls, he tried to engage his dulled brain to figure out what time of day it was. By the time he was in the "showers", he had guessed that it was early morning. That meant that he would have to wait for hours for Esosa to come.

The water from the hose hit him, forcing him to brace himself against the tiled wall. Then, his head and face were shaved, they dunked him in a sink full of water to wash off any residual hairs and he was finally given clothes to put on.

He said nothing the entire time, having long since learned that it was dangerous to try and make conversation with the guards.

After he was dressed, he was not shoved back into the crowded cells. Instead, the guard poked and prodded him to the yard. Today must be the outdoors day. They got one day in a week (or something like that) where they were outside all day. This was a wonderful thing when the weather was nice, but when it rained, they still stayed outside all day. Today, however, was a lovely day. The sun was shining and, finally relieved of his goad, Tim headed off to his chosen secluded spot. He spent the next few hours trying to pretend he didn't feel like he was starving and nursing his headache. He didn't feel like he'd ever really recovered from his close encounter with the rock wall. He felt dull and slow, but that could also be from his extra long stint in solitary, he supposed.

When the bell rang signaling visiting hours, he had to keep himself from running ahead of the pack. That would only get him into trouble. Instead, he walked, still a bit unsteadily, a fair distance behind the larger crowd. When he reached the long fence, it was already lined with people on one side and prisoners on the other. He looked and looked for Esosa but didn't see her. So intent was he on trying to find his one source of food and kindness, Tim almost walked past the white man on the other side of the fence.

Then, he stopped. He turned back and he stared. He took a step toward the fence...and then another. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. It had to be a dream. It had to be a hallucination. It couldn't be real.

Dazedly, he reached out and touched the hand grasping the bar. It was real. It was a real human being.

"Boss," he whispered. "Is that you?"

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Translation from Lugniapi:_

"...ehizoque mataran a Alayla." ~ "...and got Alayla killed,"

"Así no hables, Hernan! Timon no tene la culpa dela murte d'Alayla, No es su culpa. Les dirás loque dije, tenen que entender." ~ "Don't you speak like that, Hernan! Timon is not to blame for Alayla's death! It is not his fault. You will tell them what I say. They must understand."

"Mama, no es uma bena idea!" ~ "Mama, this is not a good idea!"

"Esosa, deberas confianr enellos tan facilmente? Timon inocent pero nosabemos nada sobr'ellos." ~ "Esosa, should you trust them so easily? Timon is not guilty but we know nothing of them."

"Amigos de Timon sont, están aquí parasalvarlo. Si queren tener éxito tenen que todo saberlo." ~ "They are Timon's friends. They're here to save him. If they want to succeed, they'll have to know everything."

"No sabemos tudo loque, mama!" ~ "We don't know everything, mama!"

"Sabemos lo suficinte, y yo no hablo Inglés lo suficintemente ben comopara decirselos. Tu si. Tu traduciras loque yo diga." ~ "We know enough, and I don't speak English well enough to tell them. You do. You will translate for me."

"Pero mamá!" "But, mama!"

"Hernán, tu no decidire loque tu madre dice ono dice." ~ "Hernan! It's not your decision what your mother says."

"Si, Jefe." ~ "Yes, father."


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

If he hadn't known that Tim was the only white prisoner at Sirja prison, Gibbs wouldn't have known that the man who approached him was Tim. He bore little resemblance to the member of his team. The man who approached the bars was gaunt, pale. He was almost waxen. He had nicks all over his head and face, possibly from being shaved by a psychotic barber. There was a long red scar running across one side of his head...but worst of all was the strange expression in his eyes. He didn't even seem to recognize Gibbs as he walked with the gait of one who was worried about taking one wrong step and ending up on the ground.

He was relieved to see a small spark of pained hope in Tim's eyes when he finally reached him. Gibbs waited.

"Boss...is that you?" Even his voice was different. Soft and quavering.

"Tim, are you all right?" It was a stupid question to ask, but it slipped out. Tim was obviously _not_ all right. He looked horrible. He looked beaten and ill.

Tim's touch became a death grip and he sagged to his knees, dragging Gibbs down with him. He dropped his head, resting it against the bars, and took loud deep breaths, trying not to cry.

"Boss...I can't...c-c-can't tell you how glad I am...to...to...to see you...even though I know...know that you can't do anything... It's a lot b-b-better than talking to you when y-you're not here."

Tim stammered worse than he had at the beginning of his tenure at NCIS, and Gibbs could feel his trembling. There was also a jerky quality to the way he spoke, as though he was trying to make sure that he was speaking intelligibly.

"What do you mean?" he asked. "What are you talking about, McGee?"

"N-Nothing. H-How are you h-here?"

"Tim, look at me."

Tim raised his head. It was more than hope in his eyes. It was fear.

"You...you must have...f-found Esosa...right?"

"Yeah."

"Did...Do you have..." Tim seemed momentarily humiliated. "...have any food with you?"

"Yeah." Gibbs reached into his bag and pulled out the small loaf of bread and the water. With the team's help, they had got some sort of protein spread to put on it. They weren't sure exactly what it was, but Esosa had sworn that it was healthy, that Tim would appreciate it. "Don't eat it too fast."

"I won't. I know...know how fast...so I don't get sick." Tim snatched them from him and began to eat almost with desperation. "It's been a couple of days," he said with his mouth full. "I was a...a little hungry. How did you find her?"

"I'll explain. You just eat."

Tim did eat, but he never took his eyes off Gibbs, almost as though he was afraid Gibbs would suddenly disappear if he looked away. Gibbs had never felt uncomfortable under _anyone's_ gaze...but the intensity of Tim's stare was a bit disconcerting. Tim hadn't let go of his arm yet. He ate one-handed.

"It was your..._friend_...Marjani."

Tim stopped eating and again Gibbs felt a measure of relief to see a spark of indignation in his eyes.

"Don't say that, Boss. It wasn't like that."

"Like what?"

"Marjani...I'm not in love with her. I never was. We're barely _friends_. I felt sorry for her. She had lost so much and was so utterly alone in DC. I figured that I could help. That's all. I had no other intentions. I'm not _Tony_." It was almost a transformation as Tim spoke, sounding more like himself, less like a pale wraith.

Gibbs smiled at that. "Eat, McGee. ...but I'm glad that you didn't do all this because of some misguided infatuation. She obviously wasn't in love with you."

Another spark of life as Tim came close to rolling his eyes. "How did you find her? She wouldn't have come to you...not willingly. She doesn't trust people in government positions. I...I don't...think I blame her."

"Eat, McGee. We'd been trying to find you...every spare minute we had...and some that we didn't."

"Why didn't you just come here? Where else...d-did you think I'd be?"

"We thought you were here, but the government denied it, even fabricated a security video of you in the airport...apparently leaving Lugniapo. They wouldn't even let us come here and investigate. At one point, they closed down the entire island, stranding a bunch of tourists here for about a week, because your family had been too pushy. We didn't even know if you were alive or dead."

"You were...were thinking...d-d-dead...weren't you," Tim said, staring down at the remnants of the loaf.

"Yeah."

"Sometimes...s-sometimes, I w-wondered if maybe I _had_ died. ...and this was Hell."

Gibbs covered Tim's hand with his own. "You're not dead."

Tim's eyes closed and he nodded. "I know. I know."

"Well, we were desperate for some way to find out where you were and what had happened. We decided to treat your disappearance like a criminal investigation. That was Tony's idea. After talking to your publisher, we hit a few roadblocks. We decided to advertise that we were looking for someone from Lugniapo. It worked."

"Abby's idea?" Tim asked...around the last mouthful of food...almost smiling.

"Yeah. Abby's idea."

"N-No one...else would have...thought of something...like that."

"No, that's true. It worked, though. That's how we found Marjani. She told us about you and what she'd said to you."

"So...how did you get here if the government..."

"We're on vacation."

"We?" Tim blinked a few times. "You...the others...they're here, too...really?"

"Yeah. Well, Tony and Ziva...and Ducky. We thought we might need a doctor on hand. I'm beginning to think that he should have come in my place. What happened to you, McGee?"

Gibbs felt Tim's grip tighten on his arm. That more than anything else told him just how bad it had been. He began to be afraid that Tim wouldn't be able to let him go when the time came.

"A lot of things...lots...happened...Boss. ...and...and it's..."

"Hey." Gibbs reached through the bars and put his hand on Tim's shoulder. There was no extra flesh there. "Hey, calm down, Tim. It's okay."

Tim dropped his head. "It's not...not...n-not okay. No good...having Ducky come...he...he couldn't do anything...n-not through the bars. There's nothing _you _can...can do. Nothing...nothing anyone...can..."

"How did you end up in here, McGee?" Gibbs asked, hoping that getting Tim focused might help him get a grip.

"Didn't Esosa tell you? I'm a m-m-murderer...Boss. I...I apparently..." Tim laughed the laugh of the mentally unstable. "...k-killed her daughter."

_Thwack!_

"Tim, you need to concentrate. I can't help you if I don't know the whole story." That wasn't true, but it certainly would help.

"Sorry...sorry...B-Boss. Every...every... s-since...it's so hard...dizzy all the time...and...can't think...clearly."

"Since what?"

"The...last time I was...in solitary. They...threw me...p-pretty hard. I hit...the wall with my head." Tim's one free hand moved up and traced a discolored section of his forehead. "Maybe it was...was worse than...than...than this." His hand moved to the scar. "I c-can't see it...but I know...know it's...th-there."

"What is that?"

"I got sh-shot...s-sort of."

"Tim, look at me, please."

Tim did, but he looked completely devastated, as though there was nothing more in his life than what he currently had.

"Now, tell me what happened. Tell me how you ended up here. You haven't told anyone the whole story. I need to know."

"Okay. Okay. The whole story...it's...Boss, I..."

"Take a breath. Calm down. Just tell me. Focus on me, not on anything else. Got it?"

Tim took a breath and nodded. "Okay."

"What happened to Alayla? How did she end up dead and you accused of killing her?"

Tim was on the verge of freaking out again. Gibbs could see it in his eyes. It was less about the story and more about the situation, he figured. Tim was just not in a state where he could stay calm, not with the privations he'd suffered thus far, not with this sudden shock to his system, not with Gibbs there and him still imprisoned. Gibbs moved the arm Tim was still holding (Tim didn't let go) and reached both hands through the bars, one on each shoulder.

"Come on, Tim. What happened?"

"Everything was normal...at...at first. It was like I had...had planned. Imagine...how s-surprised I was...when I f-f-found out that...that Alayla was Marjani's sister. I had n-no idea. I didn't know th-that would happen." Tim laughed. "When I told her who...who I wanted to see, to t-talk to...she was suspicious. ...but I explained and she took me to Esosa and Jimeno. I met them. We talked. I gave them Marjani's letters."

"And then what?"

"I was doing research...f-f-for my book." Tim's hand tightened once more and Gibbs saw the hysterical laughter building up.

"Right. I know. Keep going," he said, keeping his voice as calm as possible, trying somehow to give Tim the will to keep himself in control.

"Alayla told me about this place that...that still had the...some of the original buildings from the...the...the native inh-habitants. I th-thought it might be a neat place to s-s-start the story going...and so we went. That's...that's where...where it was...where it started and...it was..."

"What happened?" Gibbs asked.

"We were...th-there...and p-p-people ca-ame. They started talking to Alayla. I d-d-didn't understand." Tim shook his head more than was necessary. He started talking more quickly. "There were lots of them. Talking to her...she wasn't happy. She s-s-seemed afraid. Then...then...there was all this...this shouting...from everywhere...and...and...everyone s-scattered. Alayla...she...grabbed my hand and started...pulling me. I kept...asking..." Tim looked around himself for a moment. "I didn't know what was going on! She stopped speaking in English. I...I tried to understand...but I didn't! I tried so h-hard, but..."

"What happened?" Gibbs repeated.

"The ruins...they're near the coast. She...she...Alayla took me...d-d-down to the docks. We...we were...r-running along and...and I looked back." A shaky smile suddenly appeared on Tim's lips. "R-Remember that old...myth? Don't look back. I looked...and... I saw a gun. There was a man at the shore. Aiming. At Alayla. Not at me. I shouted and pushed her...but I f-felt the...the..."

His voice trailed off and he traced the long scar. Gibbs could see that it had been a serious bullet graze...more a gouge than a graze. Any closer and Tim would have been killed. As it was...

"I didn't see anything else. I remember...f-f-falling...Alayla shouting. Falling...falling...but...I never stopped falling...until it all went black." Tim took a quick breath. "When I woke up...I felt so...so sick." He laughed. "I was on a boat. It ran aground. I don't know where. It was...I was...I-It stopped moving and woke me up." The tears were close to the surface now. "And...Alayla was there... She was dead. I knew...as soon as I saw her. She was...dead. They shot her. I don't...don't really...remember a lot of that stuff...it...everything was...I could barely see. There was all this blood on my face, in my eyes. My head was spinning. I threw up. ...before I knew it...there were more people shouting...at me. Shouting and screaming and...and they grabbed me." Tim looked away again.

"Tell me everything, Tim."

"They...started kicking me. I guess...they thought I'd...killed her, too. I don't know. No one spoke to me in any language I could understand. I blacked out again. I woke up. ...somewhere...I don't know...in a building... alone...the blood was gone...so were my clothes. I...I don't know what happened there. Next thing...I was in a room. So many people were there...shouting, yelling. I ached all over. Some were...shaking their fists at me. I was...sitting at a table. I saw...Esosa and Jimeno. They were crying...but they were also asking for something. I don't know what. I think they were trying...trying to...to say that I was innocent. I think that...that was my...my trial. There was a man up front. He said some things. Then, they started dragging me away again. Jimeno yelled something. Everyone stopped talking and...and looked at him. He looked at me and came over to where they were holding me up. I was...was...so...dizzy. I...he...he had a...a...a marker or something. He...pulled down my shirt and wrote something my chest. I...I don't know...it was...s-s-some sort of...symbol, I guess. It..." A brief smile. "...it shut everyone up...just for a moment. Then, he kissed me on both cheeks and backed away."

"And then?"

"Then...then...they threw me in a truck...and carted me out here. ...and I've been here...ever since. Esosa started coming the...the very next day. She t-told me that she would...would...she brought me food. She's never missed a day." Tim tried valiantly to hold back the tears but some slipped down his cheeks. "...and I'm responsible for her daughter...dying."

"No, you're not. You don't even know why it happened."

"I was convicted...I think." All the nervous energy, the slight mania that had colored his story was gone, leaving the pale wraith in its wake once more. "It was...nice of you...to visit."

"That's not why I'm here. We're not leaving you in here, McGee."

To his surprise, Tim laughed at him. "I've heard you say that so many times...all of you at one time or another...but...but it's as much a dream when you say it as when you did in solitary. You don't have a choice. I'm here until I die...which I'm sure...sure is what...what they're planning now."

"What do you mean?"

"Esosa...she told you about...about me getting TB?"

"Yeah."

Tim nodded. "They stopped her...f-from giving me my medication. I th-think they've decided I'm too much trouble. They're...they're...going to let me get it again. ...and they'll l-l-let me die of it...and then...th-they can give you my body. Story over. I c-can't t-tell them what they want. They d-don't n-need me anymore."

"That's not going to happen, Tim," Gibbs said as sternly as he could manage.

A bell rang and the other prisoners stood up and began walking back to the compound. Tim automatically released Gibbs' arm, leaving a sweaty imprint of his fingers behind. It was Gibbs who had trouble letting go. Now that he'd seen Tim, seen what had happened to him, he didn't want to wait. He wanted him out right then...because Tim was too close to lost already.

"McGee, wait!"

Tim paused and looked back. He shook his head and when he spoke, he sounded almost like himself. "There's nothing you can do, Boss. There wasn't before. There isn't now. I'm stuck here. ...but it was nice to see you...and not to imagine you being here."

Then, he turned around and joined the crowd of prisoners, his pale complexion standing out amongst the others, and Gibbs watched as he was pushed and shoved by a number of prisoners...and there was very little reaction on his part. He just let it happen. One man would push him into another who would retaliate by shoving him again. Tim never looked back.

...but Gibbs watched until he disappeared from view. Then, he walked out of the visitors' enclosure and watched as the other visitors stared openly at him. All to the better. It would be obvious that someone else was responsible, not Esosa. Once he was free of the walls and bars and fences, he melted away into the forest, running silently until he reached the truck.

"Hey," he whispered.

"He's still alive?" Tony asked, sitting up at once.

"Yeah."

"Something is wrong, though, yes?" Ziva asked.

"We can't wait eight days to get him out. We're going to have to move sooner than that."

"Why?"

"Because McGee won't survive another eight days," Gibbs said. "He's already given up."

"If we get him out now, though, where will we put him, Boss?"

"We'll have to figure something out tonight. I'll get the info I need from him tomorrow and we'll move as soon as everything is set up. Got it?"

"Yes, Gibbs."

"Yeah, Boss."


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

They found Esosa sitting with Ducky, speaking slowly with him. As soon as they came in, she looked up, almost as eager as Ducky to hear Gibbs' report.

"I think it is a good idea to practice my English," she said with a brief smile. "Ducky said he is happy to help. ...Hernan wishes Timon to be safe, but he wishes me to be safe more. He does not like that I... am helping you."

"And what do _you_ think?" Gibbs asked.

Esosa smiled mischievously, the wrinkles around her eyes deepening. "I will help. It makes me happy to do it. I think it is how I will fight our...dominaturos?"

"Um...leaders, maybe?" Tony suggested.

"Si...but it is not a _good_ leader," Esosa said. "Good leaders are not dominaturos."

"Aren't you worried at all?" Tony asked.

"Worried?"

"Afraid," Ducky supplied. "Afraid for what may happen."

"Ah," she said, nodding. "Si. I am...worried?"

"Yeah. That's right."

"I am worried for my family, but I am worried more for Timon, for what happens to him there. He is not good, si?"

Gibbs shook his head. "No, he's not good at all. We need to get him out. I don't think he's going to last much longer."

"He is sick again?"

"No...well, he's not healthy but he's not sick, I guess. He doesn't think anything will happen. He thinks he's going to die in prison."

"He is stronger than you think," Esosa said. "...but he is not to be in Sirja more than he must be."

"Do you know anywhere safe we could take him and keep him until our ride gets here?"

Esosa was silent for a long time.

"Did you understand?"

"Yes. I am...thinking."

"How was he, Jethro?" Ducky asked in the space of silence.

"Not good. He's like a different person. I didn't even recognize him, Ducky. He said he got shot and received no treatment for it that I can tell. He probably got a concussion a month ago...again, no treatment. He seemed dazed the whole time I was talking to him...and he looked starved."

"Probably he was," Ducky said, his face solemn. "No matter how sincere Esosa's efforts have been, it probably has not been nearly enough for someone of Timothy's size. If he has been fighting off tuberculosis, along with whatever other diseases he probably has picked up during the last six months, his body probably isn't strong enough to fight off anything else. I would wager that a simple cold would completely exhaust his reserves at this point."

"There is a place...I think," Esosa said, interrupting their conversation. "I...hesitar?"

"Hesitate," Ziva supplied.

"Si. I hesitate to tell it to you. It is a safe place...I think."

"Why do you hesitate? What is this place?"

"It is a house of my family."

"The family who disowned you?"

"Si. Yes, Ziva. It is empty for many years."

"Where is it?"

"It is near the ocean, in the trees. It is...dam-...damaged? That is the word?"

"Yes."

"It is damaged now for many years. ...but it is still my family. If he is...if they find him in the house, it is bad for my family."

"We have eight days, Esosa. I'm going to see him tomorrow, but we could get him out in three at most if we have somewhere we can take him. Please."

Esosa looked around at them all and then nodded. "Yes. Yes, the house will be a good place. No one sees it. Not for a long time."

"One more question."

"Si?"

"Could the guards be bribed?"

"Si," she answered without hesitation. "The pay is low and if you find the right guard, you will find one who will...not see what you do."

"Do you know which guard is the right guard?"

"No. Timon can know...but I do not know. I do not know the guards who take food and those who do not."

"All right. I'll ask him."

"Could not one of us go in your place, Gibbs?" Ziva asked.

It was Esosa who answered. "No. That is..." She searched for the word but could not find it. "...People will see another visitor. It is too many."

Ziva nodded. "I wish to see him. It has been a long time."

"Si...but it is more safe to wait."

Ziva smiled. "Sometimes, it is harder to wait."

"Yes."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim went back to his place in the yard, alone. They actually left him alone this time. He was glad of that. He wanted time to think, even though thinking had become very difficult.

Gibbs. Here. On Lugniapo. They knew where he was. ...unless that had been a lengthy hallucination, complete with tactile sensations. He couldn't dismiss the possibility. He wasn't feeling at all like himself. It was as though his whole self was screwed up, almost creating a whole other person. He knew who he was, that he was Timothy McGee, that this was not where he was supposed to be, but he also knew that he wasn't able to act like himself. It just wasn't possible at the moment. Things had changed too much...he felt as though to act in a normal fashion would take every ounce of control he possessed, leaving only a void behind. It was easier just to coast through and ignore everything but the direct stimuli...and even then, he ignored everything but the stimulus which required a real response. Rain? No reaction. Pidaro coming at him again? Definite reaction.

As he sat, trying to decide whether or not Gibbs had really been there, time moved in dollops. He only stared at the rest of the yard, never out the bars. He didn't want to see the free world. That place only existed for a specific subset of society...and he was not a part of it. He was part of that subset whose entire existence was confined to one place...this prison. His world was the yard, the cells...the horror. That was his world.

The bell rang, signaling the return to the cells. Tim hated the cells. His worst moments were there. Each cell held between thirty and fifty prisoners. There was room for the cots they were given for beds, a couple of relatively open areas...and the wall of toilets, provided only because the guards had to be there. They stank, but they kept most of the cell free of feces and urine. It was one of the few concessions to sanitation provided. Tim got up and walked out of the yard, hoping that the trend of ignoring him would continue. Maybe he'd even be allowed to sleep on his cot tonight. They weren't soft, but they were certainly better than the stone floor.

The prisoners walked without pause, knowing where to go and how to get there. Tim was at the back of the group, as usual. He knew his place. He belonged behind and below everyone there. Trying to upset the hierarchy only turned out badly for him.

"Menio albo!"

Tim sighed. He should have known the isolation couldn't last forever. He turned away from his cot. He didn't bother to say anything in response. There was so little point. So little point to any of it. He stared at the speaker.

To his surprise, no one threw a punch at him this time. The leader of the group, not Pidaro, simply pointed to the empty space by the barred window. ...and then he waited to see if Tim would try to protest. There was no point. Only pain awaited if he tried. Tim just turned and trudged to the indicated space. Conversations sprang up as he retreated. He slid down the wall and stared out the window. With a sigh he leaned his head against the bars. He almost wished that Gibbs' appearance _was_ a hallucination. He didn't want to think it was possible for life to get better.

He stayed in almost perfect stillness as the sun went down and the stars became visible. It was a beautiful, yet painful, sight. Almost against his will, he reached a hand up and out, stretching for freedom, knowing that he'd never get it.

Suddenly, from behind, a hand reached over, grabbed his and wrenched it backward, pulling Tim away from the wall. He cried out, both in surprise and in pain. He was yanked to his feet and dragged backwards, by his twisted arm, across the cell and thrown violently against the wall. He collided with it, but managed to get one arm up before he could repeat what had happened to him in solitary.

There were shouts and yells of encouragement all around him. He turned around quickly and then they surged closer and closer. Although he didn't show it, Tim felt a small measure of relief. This was simply a normal occurrence. They began pushing him, almost throwing him through the crowd of prisoners. Every so often, someone would hit or kick him a couple of times. If he blocked it, they just pushed him to the next prisoner. It went on and on until a good jab in the gut knocked him to the floor.

They laughed at him and the crowd broke up, leaving him on the floor, gasping for air. He lay in the widening circle until he felt reasonably certain of being able to breathe. Then, trembling a little and cradling his aching arm, he got to his feet and stumbled back to his place by the window. He swallowed hard and tried not to cry.

It was the incredible callousness of his treatment that got to him every time. Even after however long it had been, he couldn't get used to being thought of as scum. Perhaps this was supposed to be a learning experience.

_What should I be learning from this? ...that I'm the scum of the earth and not worth a brass penny. ...and that I have absolutely no coping ability._

Tim watched the other prisoners in his cell. He actually envied them. He wasn't sure why. They were criminals (maybe), but at least they had some degree of humanity available to them. His only access to humanity was in his head.

_Not that it matters. I'm going to die eventually anyway. Might as well live in my head. Not living anywhere else._

The lights went out an hour later. Tim slumped all the way down on the floor and curled into a fetal position. He was feeling a little bit of congestion in his chest. Maybe it was just a cold...but he figured it was the beginning of a relapse. That meant he was going to die.

He'd never felt so alone.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

They weren't let out of the cells until visiting hours the next day. Tim coughed a little and tried to muffle it. He didn't move away from the window. It didn't get really cold overnight, but he found that it didn't matter. He felt too cold. There was a sick feeling in his stomach, a lead weight that slowed him down as he headed for the visiting area. He wasn't sure whether or not he wanted Gibbs to be there again.

...at least until he saw him standing on the other side of the fence. Then, he felt as though he'd been given a tonic. He almost felt like smiling.

"You're real," he said.

"You think you imagined me, McGee?" Gibbs asked.

"I have quite a bit in the past."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm in solitary a lot...because I can't stand being out here. When I'm in there...I talk to...you."

Gibbs' expression was unreadable. Tim coughed.

"I would imagine what you'd say...and I'd...talk to you. To all of you." He shrugged. "It...passed the time."

"What happened to you last night?"

"What do you mean?"

"You didn't notice the black eye, McGee?"

Tim lifted his hand to his face. "It happens too often to notice it every time."

Gibbs sighed. "Tim..."

Tim interrupted him. He couldn't bear Gibbs making what happened to him more real by commenting on it. "It doesn't matter...Boss. It...doesn't. I'm the low man on the totem pole. I...I...just have to deal with it."

"How did it happen?"

"I'm not allowed to...to sleep on my cot. The...the others in the cell...they..."

"How many people are in a cell?"

"I've...never counted. I...too many."

"Isn't anyone sympathetic to you at all?"

"If they are...they...they can't show it. It...it would only...b-b-be worse for them...and for me."

"What about the guards?"

"Some of them...the...the ones who give me food when...I'm in solitary. Not all of the...guards will...will do that."

"Like who? Any of them around today?"

"The one on your side of the fence," Tim said, seeing Alevaro patrolling. "I think he's at least sorry for...for some of...of what happens. He...can't risk it...but I...I'm sorry that I hit him. It was...an accident...kind of. Boss..." Tim hesitated, not sure he wanted to know. "...how much longer?"

"For what?"

"Will you be here? I just...want to know."

Gibbs reached through the bars and grabbed Tim's shoulder. "We're not leaving you here, McGee. I already told you that."

It hurt more than the prisoners' fists. "Please, don't tell me...something that...that you can't possibly do. If...if you could...it would have happened...before now. It's...It's not...not possible, Boss. It's not." He coughed again. It didn't hurt yet, but he knew it was only a matter of time. "I'm already...getting sick again." Tim forced himself to pull back from Gibbs' grip. "I'm going to...to d-d-die this time. There's...nothing you can do."

_Thwack!_

It was an awkward reach, but the momentary smile on Tim's face as he reacted to the light headslap made it worth it.

"You're not allowed to give up, McGee. ...not until I let you...and I don't."

"It's not...about giving up. It's about...being realistic. Look at me, Boss. I'm...I'm not...doing well. I know it. You do, too."

"That's not a valid reason to give up."

Tim shrugged. "You have food?"

Gibbs handed it through the bars. Tim didn't care what it was. He'd long since gotten past thinking about how it tasted. That didn't matter. All that mattered was whether or not it calmed the gnawing feeling in his stomach. ...which it did. Not enough, but better than nothing.

"How much longer?" he asked again, around the small loaf of bread.

"A few more days."

Tim nodded. "I'm...glad to see you. What...have I been...missing?"

"Your family threatening to kill anyone standing between them and you. Tony and Ziva being gloomy because you're not around. Abby acting both more nuts and staid until Ducky was ready to diagnose her bipolar."

"Sounds... ...exciting."

"I could use less excitement. That's why we have to get you back."

"Well...if I'm dead..."

_Thwack!_

"Knock it off, McGee."

Tim just shook his head. "Please, Boss. Don't make...this any...any harder than it has to be. Stop telling me...that it's..." He coughed. "...it's going to...be okay. It's not."

The bell rang and Tim stood up to leave.

"Wait, Tim."

"Bye, Boss. Will you...be back tomorrow?"

"Yeah."

"Bye." He walked away.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Alevaro's shift ended late that day. He headed out of the prison. It wasn't a great job but it was the only steady work he could get. He waved to Juan as he began the walk to his home outside Cascheya.

He was just out of sight of the prison, in the darkness of the trees when an arm wrapped around his neck and a hand twisted his own arm behind his back.

"You understand English?"

The grip was strong but not choking.

"Si."

"You're a guard at the prison."

"Si. Please, senor. Do not...kill me. I will not...speak."

"I'm not going to kill you. What part of the prison will you be guarding tomorrow?"

"I am...outside in the...day. In the night...it may be out or in the cells." Alevaro tried to keep himself calm.

"What if there was someone in solitary confinement?"

Alevaro took a breath and let it out slowly. "I...am...there."

"I will pay you to look the other way."

"I do not...understand."

"Someone will be in solitary. You won't see what happens there. Right?"

"The...white man...McGee."

The arm tightened slightly. "What do you know about him?"

"He is...beno homme..."

"You're right. He is. We're going to take him with us."

Alevaro nodded. "Si. He...will go with you. I will...not see him."

"How many guards will be in that area?"

"I will be...there."

"Anyone else?"

"No."

"If you're lying..."

"I do not...lie."

"How often are you in that area?"

"Undem...one...day?"

"What about the other guards?"

"They...not...look. He is...white."

An incredulous laugh sounded in his ear. "You don't care about that?"

"No."

"You'll do. Be ready."

"How?"

"When you get someone in solitary, you'll know."

"Si, Jefe."

Another laugh, this one more genuine. Then, without warning, the hand, the arm...both disappeared and he heard a slight sound of someone running into the forest. It quickly faded to nothing. Alevaro looked around when he dared and saw no one. Then, he felt in his pocket and drew out a wad of bills. They were Brazilian reals. Whoever the man had been was wealthy. There was enough here to live for a month. Quickly, he put them back in his pocket and began to run down the hill.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"McGee's getting sick again. We're going to move tomorrow night."

"Tomorrow?" Tony asked in surprise. "That gives us five days we have to stash him until the ship gets here. That's risky, Boss."

"He needs to be out now, Tony. Not in five days. Ducky, we ready with the house?"

"Yes, Jethro. Will you want my assistance?"

"Not in the prison, but I think you'd better be in the truck."

"You said he is again ill?"

"Yeah. He was coughing. He thinks he's dying. ...and the other inmates beat him up again last night."

"Why?"

Ziva answered. "They do not need a reason. They can and that is enough. How badly?"

"He was walking but probably had bruises I didn't see."

"Will this gambit succeed, Jethro?"

"If it's at all possible, yes."

"If he is truly ill again, I think we will need to worry about quarantine...to the degree we can get it."

"I'll get in touch," Tony said with a grin. He pulled out his phone and dialed a number that, by now, was quite familiar.

"_Tony."_ The voice was resigned.

"Hey, Leon! You'll never guess what we've been doing out here."

"_Probably not. Enlighten me."_

"The black sandy beaches, the girls. I'm telling you. It gets in your blood. It's almost like a disease."

"_How bad?"_

"We'll probably need to be kept away from the rest of the population. They'll all drop everything and want to come to Lugniapo. Honestly, I've never had so many people want to make my life easier."

"_Sounds like you don't want to come back at all."_

"It'll be hard, but I guess we'll have to. I'm sure we'll wear out our welcome eventually."

"_I'll keep that in mind."_

"Well, I think I'd better turn in, Leon. Have a nice evening."

"_You too, Tony. Good night."_

"Good night!" He hung up.

"That was charming, Anthony," Ducky said with a smile.

"I do my best," he said, grinning. "I just hope he doesn't ream me when we get back."

"We'll worry about that _when_ we get back," Gibbs said. "Now, let's go over everything one more time."


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

Tim was eating without speaking, not really even looking at Gibbs, but there was more strain in his eyes. His speech was clearing up, but he himself was getting worse...the cough slightly more pronounced, although he muffled it, always with sidelong glances at the guards and other prisoners.

With Tim's obvious weakness, his iffy mental status, Gibbs didn't dare tell him that they were going to break him out that night. He was liable to do something that would spoil their plans just out of his hopeless thought that he was going to die on Lugniapo...but there were some things that he needed to do.

"Tim."

Tim looked up, only reluctantly. It was so tragically clear that he hated seeing Gibbs through the bars, that he desperately wanted to be free.

"Can you get yourself put in solitary?"

"Yes."

"Easily?"

"Yes. Why?"

"I need you to get into solitary confinement. Can you do that?"

Tim suddenly stood up. "Watch me." He walked over to one of the prisoners. Gibbs was almost horrified at how quickly Tim had decided to obey his order. He wanted to call him back, but had the feeling that wouldn't stop whatever Tim was about to do.

"Pidaro!" Tim said loudly. "Chinga tu Madre!"

The prisoner, Pidaro, was on his feet in an instant...as were a number of other prisoners. Tim looked back at Gibbs for just a moment and then launched into a fight. He got the first swing in... but Pidaro hit him a number of times and Tim reeled backward, only to be pushed forward by another prisoner. He was definitely on the losing end...and then the guards waded into the fray, pushing prisoners back against the fence, doling out heavy blows with their batons. Gibbs noticed that Tim was hit by every guard more than once while many of the others received only a single blow, if that. Even Pidaro was only hit twice. He began shouting at the guards and pointing at Tim, angry and wanting to get at him again. When the dust settled, Tim was on all fours, gasping for air, and blood dripped from his face onto the ground. Gibbs was on his feet, gripping the bars separating him from his agent, wishing he could stop the abuse.

A hand on his shoulder kept him silent. He looked back and saw it was the guard he'd accosted last night. He looked from Gibbs to Tim and shook his head slightly. Then, he moved on. Gibbs forced himself to watch as Tim was dragged away from the visiting area, back inside the prison...hopefully to solitary confinement.

_I hope this works._

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

It was almost midnight. A truck pulled to a stop on a side road. Three dark-clad figures jumped out and began running silently through the trees until they reached the looming building of Sirja Prison. They were all armed, but they had no intention of needing to fire a bullet.

"Ziva," Gibbs whispered. "Go."

A silent nod and Ziva knelt in front of the door. The lock was picked in moments and they were running through the hallway, heading toward the line of solitary confinement cells.

"Man, it reeks in here, Boss," Tony said quietly.

"Shut up, DiNozzo."

Alevaro was nowhere to be seen.

"Which cell?"

"The one that smells worst, probably. No bathrooms."

"McGee!"

There was no sound from any cell. They ran quickly down the line, peeking in the food slots. No sense in trying to open every door. They only wanted one.

There was a motionless shape in the third cell.

"McGee!"

Still no response. No movement at all.

"Ziva."

Ziva picked the lock and quietly swung the door open. Tony looked back down the hall but no one was there. He quickly managed to slip inside before Gibbs and Ziva. He knelt down by the man and shook him.

"McGee."

He rolled over. It was McGee. It _had_ to be, but Tony felt shocked to the core by Tim's appearance. Bruises on his face, a long scar that not even the dim lights from the hallway could mask. A pale, pale face.

"Not right now, Tony. I'm tired," he mumbled and rolled back toward the wall.

"Hey, McGee, it's time to leave!" Tony rolled him back toward the door.

Tim's eyes opened again and he stared at Tony, reaching out slowly to touch him. Then, he looked at Ziva and Gibbs, levering himself up painfully on one elbow. He stared in silence for a long moment and then shook his head and lay down again, closing his eyes.

Gibbs moved around Tony and knelt down. He gently touched Tim's arm.

"Tim."

His eyes opened again.

"Are you listening to me?"

A nod.

"We're getting you out...like I told you."

Tim blinked slowly at them...and then coughed and winced, putting an arm around his chest.

"Do you understand?"

Another nod.

"Are you ready to go?"

Hesitation and then one more nod.

"Okay, come on. Tony."

Tony nodded and slipped an arm around Tim. He moaned a little but still said nothing.

"Come on, McGee. Let's get out of here." Tony was surprised to find that Tim smelled about as bad as the rest of the cell...if not worse. He also seemed to be only made of skin and bone. As he stood, the clothes he was wearing hung on him like hangers, but he didn't lean on Tony nearly as much as he had expected. In fact, there was only a small amount of weight he put on Tony's shoulders.

Ziva smiled and put a hand on his cheek for just a moment...but she met Tony's gaze and he could see the horror she felt at Tim's condition. However, she said nothing. She stood out of the way as Tony and Tim walked out and then closed the door and made sure it was locked.

Gibbs caught sight of a single guard down the hall. He stopped and pulled out his gun. The man stood still for a moment and then turned around and walked away. Gibbs smiled and continued on the way out, Ziva taking point, Gibbs bringing up the rear.

The now-quartet made their way out of the prison and headed back into the forest. This time, they weren't quite silent but even Tim made very little noise as they ran back to the truck.

Ducky was waiting for them in the bed of the truck. He was amazingly quiet as he put out a hand to help Tim climb up. They had spread out a number of blankets to make it softer. Tim sank down on them, looked briefly at Ducky and then closed his eyes and seemed to fall asleep.

"Ducky?" Tony asked, staring at Tim sleeping.

"Leave him, Anthony. There's nothing to be gained by waking him now."

"He said so little. He did not believe us."

"You said he was bad, Boss...but..."

"We've got him now. He won't get any worse," Gibbs said and got in the truck.

"That is rather optimistic," Ducky said, "but he will at least receive the care he was denied."

Tony nodded and climbed into the bed. Ziva got in the cab with Gibbs and they drove off. Ducky and Tony tried to keep Tim from being jolted too much in the bed.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

The truck pulled up to a house located in a small clearing in the trees. There were large windows, all shuttered against the outdoors. It looked dark and forbidding, but Gibbs backed the truck up to a back door and turned off the engine and the headlights. Ziva jumped out and picked the lock on the door. Esosa had offered to open it for them, but they decided that if it looked as though someone had broken in, there would be less chance of any suspicion falling on Esosa or her family. Tony shook Tim to wake him up. He didn't respond.

"Leave him, Anthony," Ducky said. "It will be better if we simply move him."

Tony nodded and the four of them helped shift Tim out of the truck and into the house.

It was nearly empty and they had set up the only bed left as the place for Tim to sleep. It wasn't a luxurious place...except in comparison to the prison. They moved quietly through the house without lighting a single light. Once they had reached the bed, they deposited Tim on it. Ducky immediately began examining him while Tony went to hide the truck in the trees.

"Ducky?" Ziva asked.

"He'll recover...so long as we can get him to a hospital within a reasonable time. He's ill, weak, malnourished." He sighed. "I am as worried about his mental health as I am about his physical health. So long...in such isolation."

"He should not awaken alone."

"I agree. I'll sit with him first. You should get some sleep."

Ziva looked at Tim. He still had not stirred. Ducky put a hand on her arm.

"He will wake up, Ziva. He is not at death's door."

"Not yet. Ducky, he looks so... ...so young. So alone."

"As you felt in Somalia?"

Ziva shook her head as she stared at the motionless form.

"No. I felt old and alone."

"Sleep, Ziva. He will be here in the morning." Ducky looked at Gibbs who had been standing in total silence. "That goes for you as well, Jethro. I was merely a passenger on this venture. The beginning of his recovery should lie with me now."

Gibbs smiled and nodded. When Tony arrived, he gestured to one of the mattresses on the floor. Ziva had already taken one and had closed her eyes...whether or not she was asleep was another matter. Tony looked at Tim.

"Ducky's claiming priority, Tony," Gibbs said. "We'll have to wait until morning."

Tony forced a smile and then lay down. It was a long time before any of them slept. Only Tim stayed dead to the world.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

It was dark. That was normal. What wasn't was the feeling of something soft beneath him.

_I'm dreaming. That's all. I don't want to wake up. Ever. I just want to stay asleep._

There was a cough building up in his chest. He knew if he coughed he'd wake up. He tried to hold it in. He didn't want to wake up. Nothing was good in the waking world. The cough insisted. It wouldn't fade. Finally, he couldn't suppress it any longer and the world he wanted to stay in had to fade. He began to cough. Holding it in had only made it worse and it exploded out of him painfully. Tears gathered in the corners of his eyes. It was getting worse.

...but then, there was an arm around him and the softness didn't vanish. There was that dream he'd had of being rescued. It had been such a nice dream, but it couldn't be real.

"Timothy, are you awake?"

Tim almost opened his eyes...but he couldn't bring himself to do it.

"How are you feeling?"

"No, it's not real."

"It _is_ real."

"No, it can't be."

"Open your eyes, Timothy."

Tim did...and it was still dark. It was a horrible blow and he couldn't hold back a whimper. A form shifted in his view.

Then, there was a sudden flash of light...and Ducky illuminated his face.

"I'm here, Timothy. We all are."

Then, the light went out again.

"Ducky."

"Yes, Timothy. We have to keep the lights out to avoid drawing attention to where we are."

"You shouldn't be here."

"Why not, lad?"

"I'm sick."

"I know. It's possible that you have tuberculosis."

"I do have it. I know it. It feels like it did before."

"You're probably right, but that doesn't mean you're going to die."

"I almost did...before...I...I can't do it a-again." Tim shook his head and covered his head with his arms. "I deserve it."

"No, Timothy. That is far from the truth."

"You sh-should have left me...there. I..." Tim felt the arm holding him up and tried to get away from the comfort it offered. He closed his eyes. "I c-c-couldn't help her...save her...help...them...I tried...but I couldn't. I..." He began to cough again and with the coughing came the tears and he began to cry. "Y-You should t-take...take me...back. I...someone...has to...to pay for what...h-happened. It's...not fair t-to...to Esosa and Jimeno. They...need to..."

Strong arms wrapped around him and began to rock him back and forth. As he had with Esosa, he felt himself weaken enough to sob. It aggravated his cough and he was coughing and crying so much that he couldn't speak. He couldn't even hear the words being murmured to him, couldn't discern who was speaking.

He tried to tell them all the worst things. He didn't want to get used to this idea of being free only to have them retract it when they realized that he _should_ be in prison. He just couldn't get the words out, couldn't get enough breath to say any words.

"Timothy, hush."

The rocking continued and then there was someone else there as well. Tim could sense the proximity.

"Tim, look at me. Open your eyes."

Tim could only shake his head. The resulting headslap was both a surprise and way too soft to be called a slap. It calmed him slightly.

"Open your eyes."

Tim couldn't refuse and his eyes opened, almost of their own accord. Gibbs was there, right in front of him.

"You're not going back there, Tim. You hear me? No matter what. We will _not_ let anyone take you back to that prison. Got that?"

Tim leaned back into the arms holding him.

"Do you _want_ to be back there where we found you?"

Tim shook his head.

"Then, we'll sooner die than let that happen."

Tim felt something release inside him. He reached out and grabbed Gibbs' shirt. His face crumpled.

"I...don't want...t-t-to die. I don't want to die."

Gibbs pulled him from the other arms and hugged him in a way that would have been out of the question had the situation been any less traumatic.

"You're not going to die, Tim. You're free now. You're free and you're going to go home. You're not alone anymore."

Tim couldn't speak anymore. He was tired. He ached. It was hard to breathe. Instead, he allowed himself the luxury of believing what Gibbs said and he felt headlong toward a deep sleep, the kind of sleep he'd been denied for more than six months.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

Gibbs helped Ducky lay Tim back down on the bed. Tony and Ziva had amazingly not awakened

"Are we in danger of catching this, Ducky?" he asked, keeping his voice low.

"Yes, Jethro, we are. I recommend that we take simple precautions beginning tomorrow...and most certainly once the ship arrives. In fact, we should probably sleep elsewhere. If this is, indeed, tuberculosis, then Timothy will be contagious, and the last thing we need is for the rest of us to get it. When we get to DC, we'll all have to be tested to make sure we haven't been infected."

"What about Tim?"

"As I said, he'll more than likely survive. His symptoms are mild yet and the disease takes time to develop, but I do hope Director Vance was able to parse Anthony's meaning. The captain will need to know just what he's doing in allowing Timothy on board. In a few days, he could be much worse...and that will be bad for him and for anyone who might come in contact with him."

"What about treatment? The drugs he was taking before?"

"We can't risk it here. The government will probably track those things. There's another problem, however. A relapse of tuberculosis is much more likely to be drug resistant and we don't want to give him drugs that will do no good to him."

Gibbs sighed. "I'm actually more worried about what he was saying."

"I think we'll have to wait and re-evaluate him when he has more time to understand what happened. He may be a little better when we've had a chance to get him more physically stable."

"What's the likelihood of that?"

Ducky sighed. "I don't know, Jethro. Timothy could react like the worst prisoners of war I've had to treat or like the most fortunate prisoners. It depends entirely on how his mind has fared. I would suggest that we ask Esosa to come. He has apparently formed an attachment of sorts and she obviously cares for his well-being."

"I don't want to put her at risk."

"You mean that you don't want to be forced to ask for someone else to help you rescue your team member," Ducky said with a knowing smile.

Gibbs didn't respond. He just stared at the troubled young man.

"Go to sleep, Jethro. Timothy will be leaving with us. You're not going to lose him."

"I'm more worried that we don't really have him now, Ducky," Gibbs said and then lay down and slept.

Ducky stayed close beside Tim, but eventually, he fell asleep as well.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

There was a familiar hand on his forehead and Tim opened his eyes, finding himself staring into the dark brown eyes of Esosa...staring down over a white face mask. Her face crinkled as she smiled at him. The room had been vacated. He was the only one there besides Esosa. ...but it wasn't his prison cell. It was like he was in a shuttered room, not solitary confinement. Esosa seemed happier to see him than before, and he still felt like he was in a bed.

"It is good to see you, yaro."

"Mama," he said with a tentative smile of his own.

"It will be hard to see you go, but I am happy to see you free."

"Free." It seemed so impossible for things to have changed that quickly. Tim found that his mind just couldn't accept it. The possibility of being able to leave Lugniapo was much too distant.

"Si, yaro. You are free. You are in...a house of my family. Do not fear."

Tim coughed. "I'm getting sick, Esosa."

"Si, but you will soon be gone and they will help you. It will be...better for you, Timon."

"I'll miss you, I think."

"I will miss you, yaro," Esosa said, stroking his shaved head.

"I'm so sorry about Alayla," Tim said, dropping his head.

"You did not kill her. She chose her path...and those who did kill her chose theirs. Your place is not a bad one here."

"If I hadn't...been here..."

"You do not know what happens. It is the same for me. I do not know what happens. That is life."

Tim sighed. "I would never have come if I had known I'd be...the one who got your daughter killed."

"You did _not_," Esosa said firmly and lifted his chin. "I call you yaro. I do not call you that for no reason. Do you not know what that is?"

Tim shook his head.

"Yaro is son. ...but it is more than son. It is..." she paused, trying to find the words to explain what she meant. "...Jimeno made you one of us. He says that you are our son, our...family. It is not a simple word. It is that we make you our son. We...perfihado...is the word. I do not know it in English." Esosa shook her head in frustration. "Jimeno gave to you his family name."

"Adopted?" Tim asked. "When you take a child who is not yours and make him legally yours?"

"Si! Yes. Timon, Jimeno did that. It is how we say that you are family, you are not to blame. We do not do that when we do not mean it. Yaro is...adopted? ...adopted son. He says this with many people to see. All know it. All know Timon is Esosa's yaro."

Tim began to cry...and then to cough as the act aggravated his increasingly-congested lungs. Esosa hugged him as only a mother can.

"No, yaro, it is not a time to cry. You will be fine. Soon, you will go home and you will be with your real family."

"You'll never be...with your family again. Not all of them."

"That is not because of you. Now...are you hungry?"

"Hungry?" Tim asked...not because he wasn't, but because it was the wrong time of day to be getting food.

"Ducky says that we will have to give food slowly, but that you need it...a lot of it. He says you are...skin and bone." She laughed a little.

It was almost baffling to contemplate being given a _lot_ of food.

"I gave what I have, but it is not enough. I am sorry."

Tim couldn't help but shake his head. He had lost his words again. They were all in his head, but they weren't in his mouth.

"I will get food for you. Will you... Can you be alone?"

The laugh that bubbled out of Tim's lips was less about the humor of Esosa's question than it was an hysterical expression of his sheer horror. He cut it off as soon as he could, but he could see that it startled her.

"Timon?"

"I'm...always...always alone, Esosa. I...can wait." He spoke as slowly and deliberately as he could manage.

She leaned over and kissed the top of his head. "It will be...all right, yaro."

Against his will, Tim felt his hand reach out. He touched the face mask briefly.

"Thank you...mama, thank you."

Esosa nodded once more and left the room. Totally alone, Tim looked around. The room was dusty and empty...except for the bed in which he lay. There were numerous windows, all shuttered against the light...but small streams peeked through, casting lines of lights on the floor, on the opposite walls. Light. He suddenly wanted, no _needed_ to see that light. There was no other way he could believe that he was really out without seeing the light...without bars casting shadows on his face.

He felt weak and shaky as he slipped off the bed, but that was so normal that it hardly mattered. He just wanted to open those shutters...to prove to himself that this wasn't some elaborate ruse. If it was he knew he wouldn't be able to survive it...but if it wasn't...

_Please be real. Oh, please, please be real._

He reached out for the wooden dowel running vertically down the center of the shutters.

The door opened behind him. Instantly alerted to the presence of another person, he spun around, his body tensing and ready for attack.

"McGee."

Her face might be half covered with a mask, her hands holding a tray...but he had no confusion about who she was.

"Ziva." Part of him wanted to run to her and hug her. The rest of him simply stood and stared, drinking in the presence of someone he had privately thought he'd never see again.

"Yes. You should not be up."

"I...you're really here."

"Yes. What are you doing?"

"Where am I?"

"Did Esosa not tell you? You are in an old house belonging to her family. We are here for a few days. You must be hungry."

"I just want to..." He reached out for the shutter again.

"No! McGee, you need to keep the shutters closed!" Ziva said sharply.

Startled, Tim looked at her. "Why?"

"We do not want to alert anyone to our presence. We have to stay here and have nowhere else to hide. It is unlikely that anyone will see us, but we have to take precautions."

Tim nodded and held out one hand, letting the sunlight play across it, looking wistfully at the narrows beams.

"Are you hungry, McGee?"

He nodded.

"Come back and lay down. You look pale."

"I'm fine," he said absently as he walked back to the bed. Halfway there, he was seized by a surprisingly intense coughing fit. He staggered the rest of the way and nearly collapsed onto the bed. Ziva set the tray down on the end of the bed and sat beside him.

"Are you sure you are all right?"

Tim took some deep breaths.

"I'm...only...dying, Ziva. I'm fine." He tried to smile.

"You are not dying, McGee. You are sick...and you need to eat."

"I am...starving," Tim said and again strove for a smile. "What's for breakfast? I feel like I haven't eaten in ages."

Ziva looked as though she wanted to ask what Tim had been about to say, but instead she nodded.

"You probably have not eaten properly for a long time."

"Probably not." Tim sat back and allowed Ziva to move the tray closer to him. It was one of the most beautiful sights he had seen in ages. The best part was the fresh fruit and vegetables gleaming on the tray. He never would have thought that something so simple (and generally unappealing) as taro would look like the most sumptuous meal he'd ever had. There was bread as well...with some sort of spread on it. Banana slices and pineapple. Tim almost wanted to cry. Instead, he began to eat. Slowly, but steadily. Only belatedly did he remember the concept of good manners.

"Sorry...Ziva, do you want anything?"

She smiled, at least he assumed she was smiling, and shook her head. "No, McGee. I have already eaten. This is for you."

"Thanks." He didn't even try to make conversation as he continued to eat his way across the tray. There was more food on it than he usually got in a week...especially in solitary. He felt full by the time he finished, a sensation so foreign to his recent experience that he had almost forgotten what that meant.

"I see that you _were_ hungry."

"Yes." Tim watched as Ziva straightened the dishes on the tray and then began to leave. "Ziva?"

"Yes, McGee?"

"How...How long was I in there?"

She set the tray down. "You do not know?"

Tim shrugged. "No calendars. No clocks. ...and I stopped trying to keep track... I didn't want to...to know how...long I'd..." He covered his hesitation with another cough.

"You are sure you wish to know now?"

"Might as well know now as later. I'll have to find out sometime."

"Over six months."

Tim couldn't decide how he felt about that. Six months. He'd been in that...that place, that little piece of Tartarus for six months. Six months.

"McGee?"

"Six months," Tim repeated, staring blankly ahead of him.

"Yes."

"Six months," he said again. "It seemed longer."

"It always seems longer than it is," Ziva said softly.

"I guess...you'd know...wouldn't you."

"I would never say that I know how you feel. Everyone has their own experience...it affects them differently."

"But it's all bad."

"Yes."

"You didn't show it much...not...not after we left," Tim said, looking at her briefly.

"It is safer to hide," Ziva said. "...but it is not always wise."

"I spent most...most of the time...hiding." Tim coughed again. "You know...maybe _I_ should be the one wearing the mask. I'm the sick one."

"You could not eat through the mask."

"True," Tim agreed with a slight smile. "When will I get to leave?"

"In a few days."

"So...I'm still in prison...basically...I'm...just at the mercy of nicer jailers."

"We are not imprisoning you, McGee," Ziva said sharply. "We are freeing you. We have risked a lot to do so."

Tim stood up abruptly and walked to the shutters. "I don't believe that there's anything...out there." He put out his hand to catch the sunlight again. "I can't...can't even imagine it...not anymore."

"Have you forgotten the world?"

"No. I remember it," Tim said. "I just can't...picture it anymore."

"I understand. You do not _want_ to. You are afraid of never seeing it and do not want even to imagine being home, being with people who care about you...instead of those who seem to exist only to make you miserable."

Tim turned back from the shutters. Ziva was still sitting on the bed, but she was no longer looking at him. She was brushing uselessly at the bed with one hand and staring at the floor.

"Was it like that for you?" he asked after a moment.

"Both better and worse for me," she answered.

"How?"

Ziva kept her face toward the floor. "I felt I deserved to die. I had embraced the idea that eventually my captors would kill me, and it would be the punishment I deserved for all I had done. Every blow was the delivering of justice. Every...every horrible moment. I looked on it as a way of purging myself of all the things I had done wrong. It would end with my death, but death would be a sweet release. The things they did to me... I will never forget them." She lifted her head and Tim was surprised to see tears in her eyes. "...but I was saved...by two men who should not have felt that I was worth saving, who should not have risked their much more valuable lives...but who did so anyway."

Tim walked slowly back to the bed. He sat down beside her and stared at the shutters.

"It was worth it. You were worth saving, Ziva. I would have done it again."

"I know. You also are worth saving, McGee."

Tim felt something deep inside him, screaming to come out, more even than his still-present guilt over what had happened, more than his memories of his time.

"It wasn't worth it," he said, feeling his whole body tensing up, feeling the congestion in his lungs signaling another coughing fit.

"What?"

"Coming here," he said and swallowed, trying to hold back. "Coming here...wasn't...if I had known what would...would have...have happened to me...if I had known... I wouldn't have come. It wasn't worth it." He felt the first tears on his cheeks. "Ziva, it wasn't worth it. I wish I'd never come. I wish..."

Ziva put an arm around him and he rested his head on her shoulder.

"It wasn't worth it, Ziva," he whispered again and began to cry...which again made him cough and he tried to make sure he didn't cough on Ziva, but she didn't move away. In fact, she continued to hold him.

"It is all right, McGee. We will not let anything happen to you, not now that we have found you again."

"It's..." Tim panted for a moment. "...it's a little late to stop this from happening." He tried to smile. "I don't think the bacteria will listen to you."

"It is only a few more days. You must be patient."

"Do I have any choice?"

"I suppose you could run out of here...but it would not help."

"Probably not."

Tim stood up again, rubbing at his chest.

"I'm scared, Ziva," Tim said finally.

He looked down as he once more held out his hand. The sunlight lit up his palm.

"I'm really scared."


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

Esosa walked to the fence, feeling more nervous than she would ever admit. Alevaro was there to let in the visitors but he avoided her gaze. Both of them were afraid of showing even slightly their awareness of what had happened. It did appear that no one had yet discovered Tim's absence from solitary. For once, the cruel treatment employed by many of the guards at the prison worked in his favor. Those who would not give Tim food, would not help him in any way, would also be unaware that the solitary cell was empty.

The gate opened and Esosa walked forward with the other visitors. The prisoners came in a few minutes later. Esosa worked her way to one of the guards and handed her meager offering of food to them. She knew they had no intention of giving it to Tim...even if he _had_ been there. That didn't matter. What mattered was that she was doing her part to keep suspicion off her, her family and off Alevaro who had helped.

Task completed, she walked back toward the exit, pausing only to give a small amount of food to one of the prisoners who had no visitors. He was almost skeletal at this point and she was sure he would die soon. Criminal or not, she felt sorry for him. No one deserved to die of starvation. She wished she could afford to bring more to him. Perhaps he would survive long enough for the guards to discover Tim's escape. Then, she could bring him the food she brought for Tim.

Tim hadn't been a criminal. It made her wonder, almost for the first time, just how many of these prisoners had committed no crime.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim woke up in the middle of the night, drenched in a cold sweat. He felt short of breath and sat up quickly, wiping his face with shaking hands.

"McGee?" The voice came out of the darkness. "You all right?"

Tim started coughing before he could answer. The fit didn't last long but it left him feeling shaky.

"McGee?"

"T-Tony?"

"Yeah, McGee. It's me. I'm on duty tonight. You need anything?"

"New lungs?" Tim asked as he tried to stave off the minor pain in his chest.

"I'm not the one to ask about that, McGee. My lungs aren't in the greatest shape. Remember?"

Tim laughed a little but couldn't quite get rid of the pit of worry in his stomach.

"Right. How c-could I forget?" He wished Tony would come closer. This was too much like his conversations in solitary.

"I'm sure you have other things on your mind."

"Yeah."

"It's only about three a.m., Probie. You should get back to sleep if you can."

"Tony?"

"Yeah?"

"You can say it."

"Say what?"

"I imagined you...you saying it...a lot. You might as well now that...that you're...really here...and not just in my head."

"I don't get it, McGee."

Tim put a hand to his chest and felt his racing heart beat through his soaked shirt.

"Say... 'I told you so.'"

"McGee...I..."

"Please, Tony," Tim said. "Please, say it. Please. You said I...I shouldn't come here. You were right. Tell me you were right...tell me that I...I should...should have listened to you. Tell me that..."

"McGee, don't. This isn't the time."

Tony was still only a noncorporeal voice. Tim could see faint tracks of lesser darkness through the slats of the blinds but it wasn't enough to show him where Tony might be.

"Sure it is. What time could be better than now? If I die...you won't get the chance later on."

"You're not going to die, McGee."

"You don't know that." Tim coughed a few times. "You can't know that. I could have a form of TB that's not treatable. I could have destroyed my lungs. Maybe I have other diseases I don't even know about. It's likely. A fungus. A parasite...bacteria...whatever. That place...it wasn't exactly sanitary."

"Tim..."

Finally, there was a presence nearby. Tim felt the bed sink as Tony sat down.

"Tell me it's my fault. Tell me that you told me so. Tell me that you were right and I was wrong."

"I can't do that, Probie."

"Why not?" Tim asked, feeling the tears again. "Why not? You always tell me when...when I screw up. You always rub my nose in my mistakes. Well...this is a big one. Huge. Colossal. I may not even survive it. Rub my nose in it, Tony. Tell me I was stupid. Tell me it's my fault."

Finally, Tony's hand touched his shoulder, withdrew for a moment as it felt the cold sweat soaking the shirt and then returned.

"It's not your fault, Tim."

"Yeah, it is. If I hadn't thought...thought that I could...could s-save the world...if I hadn't th-thought that..." He began to cough again causing the pain in his chest to flair up again as his lungs tried to work to supply oxygen to his weakened body. The fit lasted longer this time.

"Calm down, McGee. It's okay." Another hand on his arm, acting as support.

"No, it's not. It's not okay. It's not okay. I wanted...to do something right...and instead...I got someone killed and...and what I hate the most is...is that I...I care more about how I feel than...than about Alayla. I'm scared of dying, but she's...already dead." Tim started shaking, partly from cold, partly from fear. "I think...I think I'd rather die like she did. One shot to the head. Never feel a thing. It's so much better than this...this slow...painful...death."

"You're _not_ going to die from this, McGee. Don't tell me that I don't know that. I do."

"How?"

"Because Gibbs won't let you die. You know that. He won't tolerate having to get someone else on his team, let alone all the wasted time if you end up dying."

Tim tried to laugh, but it again turned into a hacking cough.

"Y-Y-You're wearing a...a mask, right?" he asked when he could speak again.

"Of course. No worries, McGee."

"No worries? I have lots."

"Well, that's one less then. You're not infecting me with your cough."

"It's...getting worse, Tony. A lot faster than it did...the first time. They...they wouldn't even...let me sleep on a cot. I had to be by the window. It rained...on me and..." Another spate of coughing. The only sign Tony gave of acknowledging it was a tightening of his grip on Tim's arm.

"Hey, McGee, just focus on breathing. You don't have to explain everything yet."

Tim tried not to cry again. He didn't want to cry. He hated crying. He hated letting people see him cry...but he was so very afraid of losing his one chance at freedom. He was afraid of dying, struggling for every breath, right at the moment of finally getting away from his prison.

More than any of that, though, he was terrified of finding out that this was all an illusion made up by his treacherous mind and he'd wake up to find himself back in solitary, rats crawling over him in the night, fleas biting his skin...and the other horrific moments that made up his time in jail, moments he struggled to thrust away from his memories. He didn't want to see those things, remember them.

He became aware of being eased back down onto the bed by Tony's surprisingly gentle hands.

"It's going to be okay, Probie. I promise. Just relax. We're here. We won't leave you alone. You're stuck with us."

"I don't...want to die, T-Tony."

"You won't."

"Say it, Tony," Tim whispered. "Please?"

He heard a sigh and then silence.

"Tony?"

"Okay," Tony said heavily. "I told you so, McGee. I was right and you were wrong. You should have listened to me."

"Yes."

"Go to sleep, McGee."

The sheets were damp with his sweat, but Tim did feel tired. He slumped lower in the sheets and finally fell asleep.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Over the next couple of days, Tim's situation got both better and worse. If Ducky had harbored any doubts about whether or not Tim had tuberculosis, they were quickly dispelled by Tim's health...or lack thereof. Despite his increased food intake, the better sanitation, the better rest, Tim's health deteriorated as his cough became more pronounced, more painful and more frequent. Esosa was with them as much as was possible, but she had other responsibilities beyond acting as Tim's nurse. Whenever she came, her face was grave at Tim's condition. He had so little reserves left with which to fight the illness that it was swiftly developing into a serious case.

They wanted so badly to get Tim off Lugniapo that everyone was on edge. Unfortunately, there was no way of hastening the arrival of their ride. The schedule was set in stone. Even when Tim began coughing up blood two days before they would be able to leave, there was nothing they could do.

Tim himself seemed to accept his worsening condition with the same resignation they'd seen in him before. He was more convinced than ever that he was going to die.

There was, however, one thing that gave them hope: Tim himself.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Esosa?" Tim said softly, trying to prevent another coughing fit. Each one sapped more of his energy, but also made it difficult to sleep.

"Yes, Timon?" Esosa asked. She had been at the door, ready to take his tray away. He was eating a lot less. It was too difficult to get it down when he was coughing so much. The TB had also managed to sap a lot of his appetite.

"You...never gave me any letters to take."

"I do not...understand."

"For Marjani. She'll want to know...how you're all doing. They keep telling me that we're leaving soon."

"I could not..."

Tim shook his head wearily. "It's...one of the reasons I came. Please...let me do that...for you. For Marjani. Please."

Esosa set the tray down and hugged Tim tightly. "Oh, yaro. I am so sorry for all that has happened to you. It is not right. You are such a good man. You are so...a homme maravihoso. You are...you will be my son...always. I will think of you, yaro."

As she held him in her arms, she felt him shake and cough and it tore at her heart...as it had when her own children had suffered from tuberculosis and all she could do was hope that they would survive. Thankfully, they had _all_ survived the disease. Other families had lost many family members to tuberculosis. The worst part was that she would never even know what happened to him. Tim would leave in a horrible state of breakdown, physically and mentally, and she would never see him recovered.

Tim wound his own arms around her and hugged her back.

"Thank you, Esosa. Thank you."

"We have...helped each other, yaro. It is enough."

"Write letters."

"I will. I will do it at home. I will bring them to you."

She kissed his head and left him only reluctantly. Outside the room, Gibbs was sitting with Ducky and they were talking quietly...to rapidly for her to understand them. She pulled off her mask, walked over and crouched down in front of them.

"You will save Timon?" she asked, pleading with them to say yes.

"We're doing our best, Esosa," Gibbs answered.

"No. Do not say your best. Say that he will live. Say that he will...how do you say...make it. Say that. I will not know if he lives unless you tell me now."

"What happened?" Ducky asked.

"He asks me to write letters for Marjani. He asks me because he wishes to help me...even now. Even when he is so ill. I do not wish for this good man to die. I do not wish to see him leave...and die from this...this thing he wishes to do for us." Esosa felt her own eyes fill with tears. A mother's tears. "He must...must live. ...be happy."

Ducky held out a handkerchief to her.

"None of us want that. We are doing our best," he said as she dabbed at her eyes. "I have every confidence that once that we get him back to DC Timothy will recover. We will be able to treat him with the drugs necessary to save him. I _hope_ that with his physical recovery he will also recover mentally. That remains to be seen, but his freedom will help."

"Yes. I am...sorry that I...was angry. I will not know. I cannot know and he is as my son."

"We'll find some way to let you know... I don't know how," Gibbs said, "but we'll do it."

"Will you save him?" Esosa asked.

"Yes. We'll save him. No matter what it takes."

"Good. I must go. He tells me to write letters and I will do it. For him...and for us. I will bring them before you go."

"We won't leave without them," Ducky said.

Esosa smiled and nodded. She looked back toward the closed door.

"He is still a prisoner here. Only he is...prisoned by the tuberculose, not the guards."

"He'll be free. Soon."

"I will come tomorrow."

"Good night, Esosa."

"Adeus." She left, but still with a measure of sorrow for the man left behind in the room. He was still alone, even though he was free and surrounded by people who cared for him. She knew that he would have died had he been left in prison with his new illness.

...but she still didn't want to leave him alone in that room.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

"Hello, ma'am. You are leaving us now?"

Ziva smiled and nodded. "Yes, I am afraid that our vacation must end. It has been a wonderful trip here."

"You will tell others of Lugniapo? Of Cascheya?"

Ziva felt a slight pang for the hope in the man's eyes. No matter what had been done to Tim, he was not to blame for it, although he suffered for the actions of his government. It had always been that way. When the government was corrupt, it was too often the people who suffered most from the corruption.

"I will tell people how beautiful it is here and how kind you all have been." That was honest at least. She found the notion of lying to him distasteful, but railing about the injustices inflicted upon Tim would not be the way to make change. Instead, as he smiled his gratitude, she paid him for their stay, grateful that they at least accepted reals here and not whatever the local currency might be. She had not seen any sign of a national currency.

"We are sorry to see you go, ma'am. We have so few people coming here. Half our rooms stand empty."

"I hope that more people do come. Lugniapo is a beautiful island."

The man then smiled again but in such a way that she thought he was hearing the words she was not saying.

"You are checking out immediately?"

"Yes. We have been exploring the coast and will be boarding the cruise ship in the morning. I was sent to gather our things."

"All by yourself?"

"No, my friend is up getting our luggage. He will do the heavy lifting."

"Thank you for staying with us."

"It was a pleasure."

"Ziva! Some help, please?" Tony called from behind.

She looked back and saw Tony loaded down with the bags, although she got the feeling that he was putting on a show, acting as though they had more than they actually did...since some of their luggage had already been moved out of the hotel and was secreted away in preparation of their departure.

"Tony, I thought you had been lifting weights."

"Not big enough ones to deal all of _your_ crap."

Ziva grinned and walked over, taking a single bag from his arms.

"There. Is that better?"

"Oh...so much better."

"Let us go, Tony. We do not want to keep the others waiting...do we?"

"Well, if you want us to get there before sundown, you should probably take more than that one dinky bag."

The man at the desk was laughing good-naturedly as Ziva grabbed the largest bag and began hefting it out of the hotel while Tony followed along behind.

They kept up the performance until they were mostly out of sight. Then, Tony straightened and lugged the bags into the pickup. Ziva followed suit and the two of them jumped in the cab and drove away.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim leaned back, exhausted from his most recent coughing fit. Gibbs helped him settle back on the bed. There were small bloodstains on the sheet, and they'd have to either take the sheet with them or burn it to remove any risk of contamination.

"So...how are we...supposedly getting off this island...Boss?" Tim asked, gasping for breath. He was running a low grade fever, suffered from occasional chills, but it was his cough that was the worst to hear. They were getting him out just in time.

"In style, McGee," Gibbs said, wiping Tim's face.

"Why...can't..." Tim started hacking again, trying to breathe in between coughs. "...can't you just...tell me?"

"It's a surprise."

"When...do we leave? ...not that...I don't love this...dark room." He smiled weakly.

Gibbs grinned back. "Tonight. Late."

"Of...course. Why am...I not..." He couldn't finish the sentence because he began coughing yet again. When he finished, he looked up at Gibbs with frightened eyes. "Tell me...I'm not...going to...die, Boss. Please?"

"You're not going to die, McGee. We're getting you out of here tonight."

"If...only I believed you..."

Gibbs sighed. "I wish you would. I'm not lying to you, McGee."

"I know...that...I just don't believe...it."

"I know. Just be ready to leave."

"I'll...try to...work it into my...schedule. It...might not fit." Tim managed a brief smile before he grimaced and began coughing painfully. "You know...what I could...use, Boss?"

"What, McGee?"

"A new...set of lungs. Maybe...we could pick up some on the way."

"You thirsty, McGee?"

"Yeah...if I can get it down before my lungs react."

"Okay. I'll get you some water."

"Thanks...Boss."

"No problem, McGee." Gibbs stood up to go.

"Boss?"

"Yeah?"

"If I don't...make it..."

"Don't even _think_ that."

Tim just continued as if he hadn't spoken. "Make sure that Marjani gets Esosa's...letters."

Gibbs walked out without answering.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Have you seen Esosa?" Gibbs asked.

"She promised she would be there to say good-bye but I haven't seen her yet today," Ducky answered. "I heard him coughing."

"Did you hear him making a last request?"

"No...but I'm not surprised he's making it. His condition has deteriorated much more rapidly than I had anticipated."

"Is he dying, Duck?"

"If he were not to receive treatment, yes. ...so long as we can get him to DC...or even just a good hospital within the next couple of days, he can still be treated and recover. ...but I would be lying if I did not confess that I am worried for him."

"Yeah... oh, crap. I need to call Vance."

"I'll take the water." Ducky put on a mask, grabbed the glass and went in, opening the door just as Tim leaned forward from yet another coughing attack.

The door closed behind him and Gibbs pulled out his cell phone, dialing Vance's number and praying that nothing had gone wrong.

"_Why, hello, Jethro. How lovely to receive your call."_

Gibbs grimaced. Tony got into this role play, but Vance normally didn't.

"How's everything going, Leon?"

"_As well as can be expected. A couple of hitches, but nothing major. How's the Lugniapan disease shaping up?"_

"Worse than we expected. Tony may never want to come back. Who knows? Maybe we've all caught it."

"_Well, the captain isn't too worried about that, says that he's dealt with a lot worse than a few eager vacationers."_

"We're on schedule."

"_So is he. He's ready to drag you all on board kicking and screaming."_

"I don't think that will be necessary."

"_Well, the cavalry's ready."_

"Good to know."

There was a crunch of gravel and Gibbs crept to the door, breathing a silent sigh of relief when he saw it was Tony and Ziva.

"_Keep the updates coming. I'd like to know."_

"Will do. Bye." Gibbs hung up before Vance could say anything else.

The door opened.

"Boss, we're ready."

The muffled sound of Tim's coughing reached them and Tony and Ziva looked worriedly toward the closed door.

"Any sign of a search in town?" Gibbs asked.

"Nothing, Gibbs. Not even a whisper."

"It's sick, you know? He's been gone from that prison for days," Tony said quietly. "If they'd even opened the door once, they'd know he was gone."

"The guard who did care has been bribed _not_ to know, Tony," Ziva said. "The others..."

"The others don't even bother giving him the food brought for him. They'd sooner see him starve to death."

"That's in our favor, Tony. If they cared enough to pay attention, we'd be in a lot bigger trouble than we are now."

"Doesn't stop me from hating it. I'm no bleeding heart, Boss...but treating people like this..."

"I know, Tony," Gibbs said. "Let's just get ready to go. To get McGee away."

"Yeah, yeah. I just...hate knowing what's happening to people here."

"And being unable to do anything to stop it," Ziva added.

Gibbs didn't say anything. What was there to say? It was all true...and they really couldn't do anything at this point...and he hated that. ...but now, they had to decide whether they were going to save McGee or try to change a corrupt government. They would definitely fail at the second and the first was why they had come.

"Are you ready?"

"Yeah. Esosa come by yet, Boss?"

"Not yet. She'll be here."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim tossed and turned until another coughing fit brought him back to consciousness. He felt as though every breath was harder than the last. His chest ached with every inhalation, every cough.

"Tim, you ready to go?"

The hand on his shoulder awakened him to the outside world...such as it was.

"Go? Where?"

"Home, McGee."

"How?"

"The hard way."

"Tell me...something I _don't_ know."

"You have to wear the mask this time, Probie."

Tim managed a smile. "Makes sense. How are we getting...away?"

"Your favorite mode of transportation."

Tim sat up and balanced himself on the edge of the bed. He felt so exhausted just from that movement.

"A boat?" he asked wearily. "Why...a boat?"

Tony held out a face mask. "A _ship_, Probie. ...and we can't exactly take you to the airport, especially without a passport and you looking like death warmed over. Besides, you won't even notice you're on the water...for one thing, you won't be able to see anything."

"That's supposed to make...me feel better?"

"Well, at least you won't be _walking_ back to DC. Going by ship's better than that, don't you think?"

"Sounds...like fun." He reached out to take the mask. "I...can't wait." His hands trembled, he coughed and the mask fluttered to the floor. He started to reached down for it, but Tony stopped him.

"Here, let me, McGee."

As Tony secured the mask over his face, Tim smiled a little. "Thanks, Tony."

"No problem. Let's get out of here, McGee."

"Okay. ...if we can."

"Just you wait until you see our ride."

Tim stood up and nearly blacked out. He was grateful for Tony's arm around his waist, keeping him from collapsing.

"I got ya, McGee."

Tim opened his mouth to say thanks, but what came out instead was another series of painful hacking coughs, which, again, nearly dropped him to the floor (and would have had Tony not been there to hold him up).

"Can you walk, McGee?"

"Yeah. More or less...anyway." Tim smiled but remembered that Tony wouldn't be able to see his expression anyway.

"Good. Let's go."

Slowly, they walked out of the room which had been Tim's residence for the last five days. It was dark outside the room as well, with only a few moving shadows indicating the presence of anyone else.

"McGee, it is good to see you out of the room. I will be glad to get out of here."

"Where's...the boat?"

"It's a _ship_, Probie."

"Ship...then."

"We have to drive to it. Let's go."

"Where's..."

"Gibbs and Ducky are seeing to your transportation arrangements. We didn't think it would be fair to make you drive part of the way."

"How far?"

"Just outside, McGee. It is not far at all."

"Good. I'm already...tired."

"Lean on me some more, Probie. I can take it."

Tim shook his head. "No. I'll...walk."

"You got everything, Ziva?" Tony asked.

"Yes. I will just take care of the bed and join you at the truck."

"Truck?" Tim asked. "I thought we were going...by boat."

"Truck, first, McGee."

Tim nodded and let Tony lead him out of the house.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Taking a plastic sack in her hands and placing a mask over her face, Ziva walked back into the room where Tim had been...could it really be called living? Carefully, she pulled the sheets off the bed and stuffed them all into the plastic sack. After that task was completed, she sat on the edge of the bed and looked around the room. In the dark it was almost indistinguishable from the prison in which they'd found him. It was dark. It was without any real window. The door might as well have been locked since they couldn't let him out for fear of infection. This was a prison. Tim's jailers might have had the best of intentions, but they were still imprisoning him. Ziva took a deep breath...and then another, trying to deny the tears which insisted on developing in her eyes. She would never forget the look in Tim's eyes when they had come into his cell. She understood it completely because it was the same way she had felt when she had first seen Tony sitting across from her on the chair, and known that Tim was lying on the ground behind her.

She hadn't been able to believe it, hadn't been able to dredge up the energy even to _hope_ that it might be remotely possible that she would be freed from the horror of her existence in any way but death.

...and she wasn't sure that Tim believed them even now. He was seriously ill and even his friends had kept him confined to one room.

"Ziva! We must depart!"

"Coming, Ducky!" she called back and stood up.

Quickly, she ran through the house and out into the yard. There had been no sign of anyone in this area, but that was no reason to risk discovery by lingering longer than was necessary.

Tim was being helped into the bed of the truck once more. Ducky was sitting beside him. Tony and Gibbs were getting into the cab and Ziva climbed in behind Tim.

"This is how...they took me to prison, you know. In the back of a...truck."

Ziva smiled. "At least you're not handcuffed."

"Not yet. I think I'd take cuffs over tuberculosis."

"I'll remember that, McGee."

The truck started off with a jolt and Ziva braced Tim to keep him from getting flung around as they clattered along the rutted forest track...heading for the coast.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

"How is the refueling going?"

"On schedule."

"Good."

Captain Jonathan Rice, a retired Marine from the landlocked state of Wyoming, walked to the railing and stared out into the tropical night. He had been forced to retire from the Marines because of injury...but as crushing as that blow had been, he had refused to give up. Instead, after he had recovered from the landmine explosion that had almost killed him, he got a prosthetic fitted onto his leg, underwent painful surgeries, more painful physical therapy until he was as agile on his prosthetic leg as he had been on his real leg. Then, he had chosen to look for a new job, one with responsibility, one with a level of respect. He could never be in his chosen career, and after looking around for a few months, he had been invited on a cruise around the Caribbean. With so much free time, he had accepted and while there had made a habit speaking with the crew and even chatted with the captain on occasion. At that point, he decided cruise ship captain would suit him fine. He went through every hoop required for it, including getting certifications, proving his continued physical fitness, even with one leg, and working his way up through the ranks...

...until just five years before he had become the captain of the Carnivale cruise liner, _Mariposa_, running a new path down the coast of South America, refueling at Lugniapo, stopping briefly at the archipelago of St. Peter and St. John. His devotion to attaining this position had prohibited all but the most superficial relationships. Now, having reached his goal (and nearing the age of fifty), he had relaxed and allowed the blinkers to fall...just slightly.

"Is it going to work, Jon?"

"I hope so. It's all on them now," he answered, still staring out over the water.

"I would never have thought you had it in you to buck the system like this."

Jon smiled and turned around. The woman who had whispered in his ear had a good three inches on his height. She ran the kitchen with an iron fist and had a reputation of uncompromising quality both in taste and in presentation. The two of them were well-matched.

"I'm not bucking the system...just maintaining it, Alex."

"Oh, really? I've been keeping up with the story. We don't have permission to get anyone off this island."

"I'm answering to a higher system than that of international governments," he retorted.

"What system is that?" she asked teasingly.

"Semper fi," he said. "That Gibbs is a Marine. You don't refuse to help a fellow Marine unless it's absolutely impossible." He grinned with a twinkle of mischief few ever saw. "Besides, if the director of NCIS can covertly get involved in something like this, who am I to try and prevent it?"

"You just want to relive your glory days, Jon."

"I'm not reliving anything. If everything goes according to plan, I won't even be involved."

Alex kissed his cheek. "You keep telling yourself that, darlin'. Some of us know better."

"Don't you have cooking to do?"

"Don't you have bustling to do?"

They mock glared at each other and then laughed and got back to work. Jon gave one more look toward the dimly-lit island of Lugniapo. He hoped it would all work out.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Hernan paced back and forth. He knew his mother would never be talked out of saying her last goodbyes to Tim, but it didn't stop him from worrying. At some point, he knew the guards would discover that Tim had escaped and then they would start to try and find Tim. There was danger for the whole family, but that had been the case for quite some time.

Mama, nocre que debas ir," he said, trying one more time.

"Lohas dico tantas veces Hernán, que ya te escuco comun eco dentro demi cabesa." Esosa laughed as she gathered the letters she'd told Marga and Sahansan to write. They were shorter. Marga was only a teenager and Sahansan ready to try and get a real education in Brazil. The education system was so haphazard that he didn't have a diploma or even an equivalent. He would have to try his best. His Portuguese was fairly good, but Esosa could only teach him so much herself. Jimeno did his part when he could.

"Yo pudo levar las cartas," Hernan pled without much hope.

"No, Hernán. No voy adejar que Timón sevaya sin decirle adios, nunca voy avolver averlo. Ahora, tines las fotografías?"

Hernan nodded in resignation and held out the family photo. It still hurt to know, to see the two empty spaces where his sisters should be. Alayla was dead and Marjani in exile.

"Gracas." She hugged him and then whispered so that none of the others could hear what she said. "No odes aTimón porlo que hapasado. Alayla no qerra eso. Nes su culpa, si hubera podido salvarla, lo habra hecho."

"Lo se, Mama."

"Si losabes, entonces crelo, Hernán. Si dejas que l'amargura te consuma, vas adestrute."

"Como pudes perdonarlo tan facilmente?"

"Porque es un ben homme, que preferira estar merto antes qu'enfrentar loque ha pasado aqui porsu visita. Timon nunca olvidará loque ha presencado en Lugniapo. Lo hara sufrir porel resto desu vida... sin importar canto tempo sa. Aunsi lo culpara, el sufrirá pormucho tempo. Solo desera poder detener ese sufrimento. Lugniapo ha visto demasado dolor y pérdida, Debe terminar enalgun momento, Hernán."

Esosa hugged him one more time and then walked out of the house.

"Esosa!"

"Si, Jimeno." She turned back.

"Voy contigo."

"Porque?"

"Porque tambén esmi yaro, aunque no pude estar conél dela misma manera quetú. Yo tambén quero despedirme."

Esosa smiled and held out her hand. The two of them set off through the forest, heading for the coastline. The letters were secure in Esosa's bag. Hernan watched his parents leave. He remembered how Tim had looked in the courtroom. There had been a long cut across his head, infected and scabbed. He had almost looked dead and he clearly had no idea what was going on.

...but he also remembered how Alayla's body had looked when they had gone to take it for burial. That gunshot through her head. Was that Tim's fault? His parents said no. It was his inclination to blame Tim for it. Just his presence had brought a lot of misery to them. It was hard to disagree with those who said the white people were the ones who destroyed the lives of the Lugniapi.

...and yet, if Alayla had been a part of the groups working against the government...like Marjani... Hernan shook his head and stared at the place where his parents had disappeared into the night. Part of him wondered if it was just living on Lugniapi that made life so hard.

"Hernan!" Marga shouted.

"Ya deberas estar enla cama, Marga!" he called and returned to the house to spend some time with his brother and sister.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

The truck rolled to a sudden stop at the edge of the beach, proving that no matter the terrain, Gibbs was a bad and frightening driver.

Tim's eyes opened and for a long moment, he just stared upward at the sky. It was a beautiful night, a nice breeze rolling in off the ocean, only a few clouds marring his view of the stars. He didn't want to move for fear of reminding himself of how bad everything was. He just wanted to stare up at the stars forever.

"McGee, come on, we need to get to the boat," Tony said.

Tim sighed...and then let out a loud series of coughs. He looked away from the sky.

"I...thought you said it was a...a ship, Tony."

"We have to take a boat to get to the ship, Probie. ...and we have to _walk_ to the boat."

Tim suddenly became aware that a part of him, growing ever more insistent, wished that they had left him to die. The whole escaping thing had seemed like an unattainable goal in the beginning...and with every part of the plan they deigned to tell him, it seemed worse and worse. He felt too weak to be able to make it anywhere.

"Come, McGee."

Tim opened his eyes and looked at Ziva. There was just enough light that he could see her face, see her expression. She knew what he was thinking. She understood...and she was still telling him to come. He felt like he could never move again, but he tried and she met him more than halfway.

"I will help you."

It was a laborious journey...getting to the edge of the pickup. He had to rest...and cough...while sitting on the tailgate.

"Let's...go," he said finally.

Tony grabbed an arm and pulled him onto the sand...and for the first time, Tim was aware that he wasn't wearing any shoes. The sand felt nice. Really nice. A little gritty, but he didn't care. It was sand. It wasn't the few tufts of grass or the packed dirt or the rocky floor of the prison. It was sand. He was on a beach. He knew they were probably on a tight schedule, but he couldn't _not_ do it. Tim slowly dropped to his knees, ignoring the arms trying to pull him up again. He knelt on the ground, fell forward, almost onto his face, and grabbed handfuls of sand. He suddenly realized that he was crying. He was crying about the sand on the beach. Strong arms wrapped around him and lifted him up.

"It's all right, McGee." It was Gibbs...but Tim couldn't bring himself to feel embarrassed, afraid or even nervous. He just kept crying, even when it made him start to cough again and he could hardly breathe through the mask on his face. "It's all right."

He lay limply in Gibbs grasp for a few seconds, perhaps a minute before he allowed himself to be lifted to his feet once more. It was Gibbs who held him up this time. They walked slowly across the sand, and Tim savored the sensation of the sand beneath his feet, even as the rest of his body protested being forced to move.

Tony and Ziva walked close by in a state of alertness, watching for the slightest sign of being watched. Ducky walked behind, carrying a few bags.

"How much further?" he gasped out.

"Not far, Probie. We're almost to the boat."

It was then that Tim thought he could hear the sound of oars, of water lapping up against the sides of a boat.

...and he began to gag as he remembered what had happened the _last_ time he'd been in a boat, what he'd seen. Someone pulled the mask off his face as he leaned forward. Alayla. Waking up next to her dead body was seared into his brain...the bullethole right in the middle of her forehead. Like Kate. The nausea progressed to outright vomiting, and Tim collapsed to the sand, throwing up everything he had eaten that day. The coughing didn't help matters and he just couldn't stop until his stomach was completely empty...at which point, his stomach decided that, empty or not, it still wasn't done and he continued to dry heave until he felt like he was going to suffocate.

After what seemed an interminable period, the spasms ceased and Tim could taste blood in his mouth along with the sour bile and burning acid from his stomach. His respiration was as shaky as the rest of him, but the hand on his forehead which had kept all the vomit aimed away from him, the arms and hands holding him up gave him license to give up trying to stay off the sand by himself. He let them take all his weight as he tried to bring oxygen into his starved body again.

"Water?" he asked.

An anonymous hand held a bottle to his lips and he swirled some in his mouth and spat it out onto the sand before taking a drink. It couldn't get rid of the images in his head, but he was able to at least maintain some control over himself.

"Where's...Esosa?" he asked.

"She'll get here."

"We...can't leave without..."

"We won't."

"Here, sit down for a moment, McGee. We can wait here."

Tim sagged back onto the sand, the gritty...wonderful sand. He leaned against someone and stared out at the ocean. He could see a faint dark outline of an incoming boat.

"Not going," he said. "Not going."

"Esosa will be here soon, McGee."

"No..." Tim couldn't think of what he was trying to say. His head was so fuzzy that he wasn't able to follow coherent thoughts. "Can't go."

"Why not, Probie?"

Tim raised his eyes and saw Tony crouching down in front of him. He was blurry...although Tim was fairly certain that Tony didn't _usually_ look like that.

"It's not..." Tim lost his thread again.

"Hey, you guys need a ride some place?"

It was an unfamiliar voice and Tim stiffened. He couldn't seem to get a deep breath and his whole body seemed airless...and yet he could still cough.

"Have...to wait..." he gasped out. "Not for us...to go." He knew that didn't make sense.

"We're waiting."

Things started fading from his view, even Tony vanished, replaced by the unending tropical night.

A series of slaps...on his face, not his head, brought Tim out of the darkness.

"Come now, Timothy. Stay with us. Not long now."

Tim didn't try to speak. He did try to breathe, however.

"Is he going to make it to the boat?"

"Yes, he's going to make it," Gibbs said from behind him. "You hear me, McGee?"

"Yeah," Tim whispered.

"Don't try to talk right now, Timothy. Just breathe."

"Okay..." Tim gasped. Without the pressure of talking or walking...or anything, he found that it was easier to breathe...slightly, even with the mask on his face again. He didn't know how long he sat there without thinking of anything but breathing, but suddenly, Ziva was there, smiling at him.

"McGee, look over there," she said, pointing.

Tim looked away from the ocean and back toward the forest. Two dark shapes began to clear up and become people he knew.

"Mama," he said with a shaky smile.

"Timon," Esosa said and knelt down in the sand.

"Yaro, you look...bad," Jimeno added with a smile.

"I feel worse." He looked at Esosa. "Letters?"

"Si, Timon. I have letters to give you." She showed the large packet and then handed them to Ziva. "They will hold them until you are better."

Tim nodded and held out a hand to her. "Mama...thank you."

"No, Timon. Thank _you_." She leaned forward and kissed him on the top of his head.

"The...sign es...gone, yaro," Jimeno said, in his awkward English, touching Tim's chest, "but you...always yaro nuestro, si?"

Tim leaned forward and weakly hugged the two of them.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I wish..."

"No, Timon," Esosa said quietly. "No more sorry. I wish I can see you better, but I will only wait and see you better in my mind. Adeus, yaro."

"Si. Adeus," Jimeno said.

Tim didn't want to let them go, didn't want to bid farewell to the people who had saved him so many times and had been his only source of comfort for so long...but he knew he had to.

"Gracias," he said, and felt the tears. "Gracias, mama...jefe. Thank you...so much."

Then, he had to let them go, had to watch them stand up and walk away, had see them fade back into the darkness. He stared long after they disappeared...until Gibbs' hands tightened on his arms.

"McGee, you ready to go?"

"Yeah...yeah, Boss."

It was many pairs of hands that lifted him to his feet again, pulled him to the boat and set him on the bottom. Ducky sat beside him and held him steady as the crew pulled on the oars (avoiding attracting attention by using a motor). Tim felt nauseous almost instantly, but he managed to survive the crossing...but it enervated him to the point that Ducky was all that stood (or sat) between him and becoming completely horizontal.

All during the crossing, Tim relived those horrible moments on the boat, but he didn't say anything...mainly because he could still barely breathe and trying to explain what was going on in his head was a near impossibility.

Then, it got suddenly dimmer...and then brighter. Tim didn't try to figure out these inconsistencies. He just lay limply on the bottom of the boat.

"Timothy, we're here."

"Where?" Tim sighed.

Instead of Ducky's voice, a deep baritone answered him. "You're coming aboard the _Mariposa_, Agent McGee."

Tim looked up.

"I'm Captain Rice. Welcome aboard."

Tim could only nod at the vague shape in front of him. It took too much effort to speak or even focus his vision.

"We have a room ready for him. The doctor has made it as equipped as he could, but he doesn't have anything to deal with this kind of illness, Gunny."

"Just get us away from here and we have transport coming."

"All right." Captain Rice reached down himself and pulled Tim out of the boat. Tim tried to stand, but his body refused. "Just relax, Agent McGee. You're in good hands."

Tim let himself sag down into those good hands and tried not to wonder if he was going into another prison.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Translation from Lugniapi:_

Mama, I don't think you should be going." (_Mama, no cre que debas ir_)

"Hernan, you've said that so many times that I think I'm hearing it echoing in my head." (_Lohas dico tantas veces Hernán, que ya te escuco comun eco dentro demi cabesa)_

"I could take the letters for you." (_Yo pudo levar las cartas_)

"No, Hernan. I'm not going to let Timon leave without saying goodbye. I'll never see him again. Now, did you get the pictures?" (_No, Hernán. No voy adejar que Timón sevaya sin decirle adios, nunca voy avolver averlo. Ahora, tines las fotografías?_)

"Thank you." _(Gracas)_

"Don't hate Timon for what has happened. Alayla wouldn't want that. It isn't his fault, and if he could have saved her, he would have." _(No odes aTimón porlo que hapasado. Alayla no qerra eso. Nes su culpa, si hubera podido salvarla , lo habra hecho_)

"I know, Mama." _(Lo se Mama)_

"If you know, then believe it, Hernan. If you let this bitterness consume you, you'll destroy yourself." _(Si losabes, entonces crelo, Hernán. Si dejas que l'amargura te consuma, vas adestrute_)

"Why can you forgive him so easily?" (_Como pudes perdonarlo tan facilmente_?)

"Because he is a good man who would rather have died himself than face what happened because of his visit here. Timon will never forget what he witnessed on Lugniapo. It will hurt him for the rest of his life...no matter how long it is. Even if I did blame him, he will suffer for a long time. I only wish I could stop that suffering. Lugniapo has seen enough suffering, enough pain and loss. It has to stop somewhere, Hernan." (_Porque es un ben homme, que preferira estar merto antes qu'enfrentar loque ha pasado aqui porsu visita. Timon nunca olvidará loque ha presencado en Lugniapo. Lo hara sufrir porel resto desu vida... sin importar canto tempo sa. Aunsi lo culpara, el sufrirá pormucho tempo. Solo desera poder detener ese sufrimento. Lugniapo ha visto demasado dolor y pérdida, Debe terminar enalgun momento, Hernán_)

"Yes, Jimeno." (_Si, Jimeno_)

"I'm coming with you." (_Voy contigo_.)

"Why?" (_Porque?_)

"He is also my son, even though I couldn't be there for him as you were. I need to say good-bye, too." (_Porque tambén esmi yaro, aunque no pude estar conél dela misma manera quetú. Yo tambén quero despedirme_)

"You're supposed to be in bed, Marga!" _(Ya deberas estar enla cama, Marga)_


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

"How is he doing, Dr. Mallard?" Capt. Rice asked.

Ducky looked back toward the closed door. Tim had simply seemed resigned when he realized that, once again, he was confined to a room without a view.

"The extra oxygen is doing him good, but I will be much relieved when we can get him to a real hospital. ...and when we can allow him to see more than confining walls. No offense."

"None taken. He was in prison all this time? Why?"

"Officially, because he was convicted of murder. Truthfully? I don't know. If Timothy does, he hasn't spoken of it to us. Not yet anyway. He has had other factors to worry about."

"I don't know if I've seen anyone outside a war zone look like he does...and still be alive."

Ducky sighed. "I think in some ways he _has_ died...oh, not permanently, nor physically...but the man you have seen is not the Timothy McGee we all know."

"Prison changes you...no matter what."

"Yes. How long before we set sail?"

"Should be in a couple of hours. No matter how serious your situation is, we can't finagle with the refueling. I have a responsibility to a lot of people here."

Ducky nodded. "Oh, certainly. I do understand. Has there been any sign of trouble?"

"Not yet, but we haven't let anyone off the ship this time...and the Lugniapi government wouldn't dare attempt to take down a cruise liner, not with civilian passengers from all over the world. Not even they can afford to alienate all the powerful nations at once."

"We couldn't even get them to admit that he was there."

"Then, they have even less of a leg to stand on than I do," Capt. Rice said, patting his prosthetic. "They can't demand his release because, if they do, they'll be admitting that they'd been lying. ...and I'd like to see them sneak on my ship. We're not unskilled on here, for all that most of the time we have nothing worse to worry about than an overindulgent passenger."

"I have full confidence in you and your crew, Capt. Rice," Ducky said quietly. He was surprised by the hearty thump Capt. Rice delivered to his back.

"Have full confidence in your man. He wouldn't have survived as long as he did if he wasn't strong enough to take it." He paused. "...if he wasn't, he'd be dead already. He would have given up and died. It happens. Too often."

"Not exactly the most comforting statement, but I will take it in the spirit in which it was presented."

"Take it how you like, Dr. Mallard. You have a strong man in that room back there...and it's worth every bit of fight to get him out and get him healed."

"That we can most certainly agree on. ...oh, one more thing, Capt. Rice."

"Yes?"

"Would you like us to restrict our movements around the ship?"

"Not particularly. TB isn't contagious in the latent form. You're not going to spread it to anyone, but I doubt you'll want to be anywhere but near here anyway. I'm sorry that all we have is an empty storage room. We just aren't built for quarantines...and this is a full cruise."

Ducky shook his head and held up a hand. "Not at all. You have done much more than we could have asked. It is a miracle that this could be done at all."

"All right. I have to get back to my post. Once we're out of sight of Lugniapo, I'll put your call through for emergency medical transport. You sure you want to go all the way to DC? Brazil has good hospitals in the cities. It's much closer."

"In terms of his physical care, that may be advisable, but trust me when I say that Timothy needs to be back in DC as soon as is possible, even if it will be only to go into a hospital."

"You're the doc. I'll keep you updated. Let me know if you need anything."

"Will do."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Ziva and Tony sat beside Tim. He had briefly revived enough to speak to them once the oxygen had been administered, but thereafter, he had fallen into...well, it could be _called_ sleep, but it was more along the lines of an oft-interrupted bout of unconsciousness. He would cough weakly into the oxygen mask over his face, his eyelids would flutter and then he would be out again.

They heard the ship's engines start up, the turbines turning and felt the first gradual forward motions. Tim felt them, too. Suddenly, his eyes opened, wide, almost wild. Was he awake? Asleep? Delusional? All three at once? Ziva had no idea. What she knew was that Tim sat up, showing a strange kind of energy one would normally expect to find in someone who looked a little less like a white bag of bones.

"McGee?" she asked, waking Tony who'd been dozing.

Tim didn't look at her. He looked at the room. As storage rooms went, it had a lot of space, even with the rickety bed and chairs cluttering it up. They were lucky, either that it was empty or that Capt. Rice had emptied it in anticipation of their arrival. The room was what they needed. ...and it was as dismal as a room with metal walls can be. Ziva realized what Tim was seeing in his desperate search of the room.

A prison.

"Let me out," he said, pulling off the oxygen mask and coughing. "Please, let me out."

"McGee, we cannot. You know you must stay in here until the time is right."

"No." Tim tried to stand, but Tony eased him back onto the bed.

"Probie, you're contagious, remember? It's not for long, just a few more hours. Then, we'll get emergency transport and you'll be back in DC before you know it."

Tim was not comforted. He began to cry and cough...and worse, he continued to beg for his release, to plead for freedom from his prison, in a voice weak and raspy. Finally, Ziva touched Tony's arm, silently telling him to let go. When Tim sat up yet again, she caught him by the arms (his pitifully thin arms) and turned him toward her.

"McGee, listen to me. This is not a prison. You are free now. I know it does not feel like it because of where you are. I know you want to _feel_ your freedom, but you must wait. You must trust us...know that we are not to blame, that we do not want you restrained...but that you _must_ remain here. Please, McGee. Please understand what I am telling you."

Tim stopped fighting her and allowed himself to be laid back on the bed. His eyes began to close once more, exhausted by his exertions. Tony gently replaced the oxygen mask so that Tim could get more air in his lungs. As he slipped toward sleep, Tim's mouth moved but his words were too soft to be heard by Tony or Ziva.

"What did you say, Probie?"

Tim's eyes opened again and he looked at Ziva.

"From one prison to another." Then, he was asleep again.

Neither of them moved for a while. The ship built up enough momentum that the forward motion was almost insensible. Tony sat back, still staring at Tim...or rather at his chest as it moved up and down in a shallow, inefficient rhythm.

"How much of all that is because it's how he really feels and how much is because he's got every physical ailment known to man?"

Ziva sat back as well. "I do not know. ...but does it matter? Right now, no matter the cause, he still feels that way."

"It does matter, Ziva...because if it's only because he's sick, then when he starts getting better, he'll stop thinking everywhere is a prison. If not...then, even the hopsital will be a prison and he won't feel any better there than he does here."

Another long silence.

"I just wish I did not feel like his jailer."

Tony nodded mutely and they both leaned forward again, watching for signs of life...dreading the possibility of signs of death.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"_Leroy Jethro Gibbs, please report to the bridge. Jethro Gibbs, please report to the bridge."_

Gibbs looked up toward the loudspeaker, surprised to hear his name, surprised to be summoned. Quickly, he mounted the stairs and headed for the bridge. As soon as he got into the room, he looked around for Capt. Rice. He smiled and gestured.

"What is it, Captain?"

"Come and take a look, Gunny," he said. "I think the alarm might have gone out about your man. We have an...escort as we're getting underway. They joined us about ten minutes ago. They seem to have put two and two together."

Gibbs looked out behind the ship...and to the side of it. There were smaller ships flanking them and running behind. They weren't _acting_ threatening, but they were definitely keeping pace.

"You don't seem too worried."

"I'm not. You think that the cruise line would send us here at all if it wasn't aware of the basic capabilities of a volatile nation? Unless they begin firing on us, we're not stopping. We can't outrun them, but we sure are difficult to stop once we get going."

"Any chance of them actually firing?"

"Very little. I sent word to get the passengers off the upper deck, just for now. That's merely a precaution...and to keep them from getting worried about their safety."

"Any word from them?"

"Nope. Nothing. It's almost a shame, really."

Gibbs looked over at him, a bit startled. "Why?"

"Because...after seeing what they did to your man...I'd like an excuse to take them down."

"Captain, they're hailing us."

Capt. Rice grinned at Gibbs and walked over to the communications center. "This is Captain Rice of the _Mariposa_. What can we do for you today?"

"_This is Regulo Gill of the Lugniapi police."_

"What can I do for you? We're underway."

"_Si. We are...We know you have gone, but there has been an escape of a criminal from our prison."_

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"_We need to make a search of your ship...to ensure that he has not come aboard in the night."_

Captain Rice straightened and looked at Gibbs with a wry smile. "What does your prisoner look like? If you can send us a photo, I'll have my security team make a sweep."

There was a long pause. _"Please to wait for a moment."_

"Of course." Capt. Rice got off the radio and turned to Gibbs. "They don't know how to proceed now. Like I said, they can't admit to his exact description, and I've just tried to make their lives easier by doing the search myself."

Gibbs suppressed a smile as the radio came to life again.

"_We need to make the search ourselves. The man may be dangerous. Again, we request permission to come aboard and search for him."_

"Give me a moment, Officer Gill."

"Are you going to let them come aboard?" Gibbs asked.

"I think I will, actually. I'm within my rights to refuse. After all, this vessel is no longer in their port...but we are still in Lugniapi waters. They can't take Agent McGee with them if your team refuses to admit where he came from. If they say he's an American they are transporting back home, how can they insist? ...particularly if my own men are there as well...and also swear to his identity. They're refusing to give his name, his description. They know this is going to be tricky. Officer Gill may not even know exactly what is going on. Can't be sure of that."

"I was hoping to get McGee out of here."

"I know. This will delay his departure slightly, but it will be easier in the long run if all we do is let them come on board, see that he's here and not be able to take him into custody than it will to force them to leave. It will make _us_ seem guilty, not them. May not matter, but in the long run, it's safer."

Gibbs had to agree with that, but it was hard to allow it.

"Gunny, I understand how you feel...as much as is possible, but I have a lot of other people to think about, plus my own job and the reputation of the cruise line."

"I know."

"As soon as the search is completed, we'll send them on their merry way and we'll call for your transport. Probably shouldn't do that while they're hanging around anyway, not in their waters. Lugniapo claims the full extent of the EEZ allowed under international law, although they don't police any further out than maybe 50 miles beyond their territorial waters." He went back to the radio. "Officer Gill, you may bring your men aboard. My security team will accompany you on your search and give you access to the ship."

"_That is not necessary."_

"It _is_ necessary, Officer Gill...because I will not _allow_ your men to run amok on my ship. They _will_ be accompanied or they will not come aboard. Do you understand?"

Another long pause. _"Si. I understand, Capitan Rice."_

"Good. I'll meet your men personally in twenty minutes."

"_Gracias, Capitan Rice."_ The radio clicked off.

"Did you catch that, Gunny?"

"Caught it. We'll be ready." He turned around and legged it off the bridge and down to the storage room.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Who's going to be down below decks?" Capt. Rice asked sharply.

"I'll be there, sir," James said, saluting. He was the security officer. "Watson and Bonds and I will lead the group down in that area."

"Good. You know what will happen?"

"Yes, sir. We'll make sure it goes right."

Capt. Rice nodded and turned around to greet the Lugniapi officers.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"I don't...understand," Tim said, trying to focus. He wasn't succeeding. That much was obvious.

"Don't worry, McGee," Gibbs said. "You don't have to do anything. We'll take care of it."

"But..." Tim started coughing again. They had to take off the oxygen mask because he started bringing up blood again. Tony helped him sit up and looked helplessly at Gibbs as Ziva wiped his mouth with a towel.

"Don't worry. Trust me, McGee. We're on top of things."

"Don't let me...go back," Tim whimpered.

"Not a chance, Probie. Not a chance...in...anywhere."

Tim tried to laugh but he only coughed again. Ziva was just putting the mask back over his face when the door opened.

"You!"

Tim looked up and shrank back.

"Who?" Gibbs asked. "What are you talking about?"

"What is this man doing in here?" the officer asked.

"He is very ill," Ziva said. "We have to keep him in quarantine until he can receive treatment."

"Surely, you don't think this poor man is your escaped prisoner, Officer Ramoz," James said reasonably. "He's an American who took ill. He has tuberculosis and you should probably be careful about getting too close to him."

The fear of TB caused the Lugniapi officers to take an automatic step backward. One of the men began whispering in Officer Ramoz' ear, but not in English; so they couldn't understand him.

"Are you going to try and tell me that this man was somehow imprisoned on Lugniapo and then escaped from that island? ...is that what happened, ma'am?"

"Of course not!" Ziva said.

"That's the funniest thing _I've_ ever heard," Tony said. "I mean...look at him! He's obviously a big old geek. Why would _he_ get put in prison? ...and can you imagine him escaping?" He laughed.

The men were clearly nonplussed, not sure what to do. It was equally clear that they knew who Tim was and that he was the one they were supposed to be taking back. ...but they seemed to realize that there was no way they could try to say he was the one.

"We...must have been...mistaken," Officer Ramoz said finally. "We will search the rest of this floor...and we will be finished, si?"

"Yes, that sounds right. Sorry to disturb you all."

"No problem," Gibbs said. "Do you want any more help?"

"We're fine, sir. Thank you."

The door closed and Tony, at least, sighed in relief. Tim just sagged down as another spate of coughing wracked his thin frame.

"How long will it take for them to leave, Gibbs?"

"Hopefully, not very long," Tony said. "You okay, Probie?"

"Dumb...question, Tony," Tim said.

"Yeah, I know."

Tim slipped back to the edge of unconsciousness and remained there until after the Lugniapi officers were forced to give up and leave.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

"They're falling back, sir!"

Capt. Rice nodded. "Good. Any sign that they're going to keep following?"

"None so far."

"All right. Get Agent Gibbs up here to make his call. The sooner they're off the ship, the better for them."

"And for us," an anonymous voice mumbled.

Capt. Rice tried to discern who had said it, but couldn't.

"Keep in mind that we have just saved an innocent man from death, a man who has been a prisoner on that island for more than six months. No, it's not normal procedure and it's not been an easy thing to deal with...but it is the best possible outcome."

No response. Satisfied, Capt. Rice headed off the bridge to circulate among the passengers. He liked to do this when there was any change in the schedule. Cruise goers could be flighty. When things changed unexpectedly, many suddenly realized that they were on a boat in the middle of the ocean and entirely at the mercy of people they rarely saw. Being seen was a comfort to them.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Leon, it's Jethro," Gibbs said tersely.

"_Did you successfully resist the temptation to stay on Lugniapo?"_

"Tony's having a rough time. He thinks he'll never recover. The sooner we get him back to reality, the better."

"_I'll see what I can do to facilitate that, Jethro."_

"Thanks, Leon. I'd better go and make sure he's not succumbing."

"_How about you? Are you ready to get back to real life?"_

"Within a day or two," Gibbs said. The code wasn't technically necessary on their side now, but this would keep Vance from getting into possible hot water.

"_See you soon, then."_

"Bye." Gibbs disconnected and stood to go.

"Hey, I thought you were calling for a transport."

"I was," he said shortly.

"Sounded like you were reporting on your vacation."

Gibbs turned around and met the gaze of one of the technicians. "I know. It was supposed to. We'll be out of your hair within twenty-four hours."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"_Ladies and gentlemen, this is a ship-wide announcement from Captain Rice. Please give him your full attention."_

There was a brief pause and then Capt. Rice's voice was heard all over the ship.

"_I thank you for your attention and I apologize for interrupting your activities. One of the passengers aboard has taken seriously ill and is in need of emergency transport. He is currently in quarantine and poses no danger to the rest of the ship. There will be a helicopter landing on deck at around 2200 hours, that's 10 p.m. for you landlubbers, and the passenger, along with his companions will be leaving with him. I would ask you to keep clear of the main deck this evening and along a route which will be demarcated in maps posted in all the main gathering areas. The illness is contagious and while care will be taken to prevent contamination, it is safest for everyone to stay clear until he is off the ship. Thank you for your attention. Any questions can be asked of the crew as they are fully informed. I do request that you respect the privacy of the ill passenger. No personal information will be relayed."_

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Six more hours, McGee. You got that in you?" Tony asked, bracingly.

"Six...more hours...and then...how many more?" Tim asked, struggling for air.

"Well...it'll be a long transport, but by tomorrow, you'll be safe in Bethesda."

Tim's brief smile and breathy laugh conveyed no happiness. "In...another...cell."

"Do not think of it that way, McGee," Ziva said. "Think of it as going home."

"I...don't live in...Bethesda," Tim said. "...and you're...assuming I'll make it...there."

"You will, McGee," Tony said firmly.

Tim began to cough again. When he finished, he allowed Tony and Ziva to settle him back in the bed again.

"You...say that like it's a...a good thing," he whispered breathlessly. He looked up and them and then closed his eyes, shaking his head slightly.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Ducky, I'm scared that McGee is going to die just because he's so miserable, not because he has no other choice," Tony said. "He keeps talking like he's not going to make it. Before he said he didn't want to die. Why has that changed?"

"You've said it yourself, Tony," Ducky said. "He is miserable. As his health has declined, so has his belief that he'll ever truly be free. Even we, as well-meaning as we are, are keeping him captive. I fear he won't believe that it's possible until it's happened."

"But...what if he dies, first?" Tony asked, staring at the door to the storage room.

"We all simply must keep reminding him that he has much to live for, that his death is by no means certain, that he has hope. It is not much, but it will have to be enough. The air support will arrive in an hour. They have already reported that they are on schedule. The landing on the aircraft carrier will last only long enough to transfer him to the medical transport. The last leg will be long, but when we land, we will get him right into Bethesda and into the care of those who will be able to cure him."

"Physically."

Ducky smiled. "I understand your worries, Anthony...and I share them, if that makes you feel any better. I think one of the reasons Timothy's illness has progressed so quickly is not only because his physical reserves were quite low...but also because his mental and emotional reserves are exhausted and it is easier to believe there is no hope than to struggle to find the strength to accept that there is a possibility."

Tony sighed. "It doesn't make me feel any better."

"I didn't think it would. If Timothy cannot have hope, then we must hope all the more on his behalf."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

The roar of the helicopter as it landed on the top deck of the _Mariposa_ did not penetrate to the bowels of the ship where Tim lay. The only sign they had of the arrival of the medevac was a knock on the door and the arrival of a number of masked men.

Ziva instantly was on the alert and moved slightly in front of Tim who was, for a wonder, sleeping.

"Who are you?"

"We're your knights on white steeds."

Ziva's brow furrowed in confusion.

"They're here to take McGee to the carrier, Ziva," Ducky said from behind them. "Let them come."

"I apologize. Others have come with less worthy intentions."

"I understand. We've been apprised of some of the details. I'm Dr. Carson. Could I take a look?"

Ziva nodded and stepped aside. Dr. Carson took less than a minute to evaluate Tim's status and then he urged the others to hurry.

"Let's go. Not waste any time. You all are coming with us?"

"Yes."

"Get whatever you have and let's get him out of here. Have you been tested?"

"Not as yet, although I know it will be a necessity."

"Absolutely. How long has he had TB?"

"This is likely a recurrent case. He had it some weeks ago but the treatment was not continued."

Dr. Carson swore. "Why not?"

"Because the people who had him wanted him to die of the illness."

Another string of swear words.

"All right. We'll touch down on the carrier in an hour or so and then we'll load him on the C-17 and get out of here." Dr. Carson then did a double-take. "Wait...is this the guy who went missing all those months ago? ...an NCIS agent?"

"Yes."

"I...I can't believe it. He doesn't look anything like the photo that was circulating. I wouldn't have known him from Adam."

"I know."

Dr. Carson shook himself and gestured. As he was transferred onto the stretcher, Tim awoke and looked momentarily panicked. Ziva was by his side in an instant.

"It is all right, McGee. This is our ride. They are taking you to the helicopter. Do not worry."

Tim said nothing, only coughed, but he looked at Ziva with such frightened eyes that she stayed beside him.

"Ducky, could you get my things?"

"Of course, Ziva."

"Thank you."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

There were a few prying eyes as Tim was transported to the helicopter, but not many. Capt. Rice was on hand to see their departure. Gibbs and Ducky both took the time to thank him for his help, but he waved it away.

"Semper fi, Gunny. You just take care of him. When he's recovered, he can come on a real cruise."

Ducky smiled and then shook his hand once more.

"You should probably be sure to get tested for TB as well, you know."

Capt. Rice nodded. "I know. My entire crew will be tested once we make port. It's mostly a precaution, but precautions can save lives. Good luck."

"Permission to depart, Captain Rice," Gibbs said formally.

"Permission granted. Fair winds and following seas."

When the helicopter took off with all aboard, Ducky looked down at the deck one last time and saw Capt. Rice, one of many who had risked a lot to help them in their quest. Thinking of the others who had done so, Ducky felt a brief pang, knowing that it was unlikely they'd ever be able to adequately express their gratitude...and knowing also that should something happen to them, he would likely never hear of it.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

As had been planned, the helicopter touched down on the carrier just long enough to get Tim off it and on the C-17. Dr. Carson had begun an IV and continued with the oxygen mask. Tim's health seemed to be holding steady...at rock bottom. The only times he awakened, it was with an expression of fear in his eyes. Someone he knew was with him at every moment, holding his hand and speaking to him, reassuring him that this was not transport back to Lugniapo but was toward DC.

Everything went according to plan, and Tim reached the hospital in Bethesda nearly seven months after his initial departure from DC.

When they told him he was back, he didn't react at all.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

They were all sitting in anxious silence. Even Abby had gone through her usual hysterics and was now sitting, wedged between Gibbs and Ducky, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. Ducky was composed while the other three just looked tired. The McGees were sitting equally silently, waiting.

None of the NCIS team had anything especially hopeful to say beyond that Tim had survived the trip. By the time they had reached the hospital, he'd been barely conscious and hadn't even seemed to understand them. All his efforts had been on breathing. The McGees had been waiting for them, but none of them had been allowed anywhere near Tim. Gibbs, Tony, Ziva and Ducky all had small bandages on their arms. They had to have TB tests to rule out any latent TB. Tim's blood sample had been rushed so that they could determine whether or not he had a type of drug resistant TB.

"How much longer?" Sarah whispered, staring at the doors. "Why haven't they come out?"

"They'll come," Naomi said, putting her arm around her daughter and holding her tight. "Tim's back now. They'll let us know when we can see him."

Sam looked over at the other side of the waiting room. He smiled shakily.

"Did we thank you yet?" he asked.

"No, but that's all right. We can wait," Ducky said with an answering smile. "We don't require it."

"But you deserve it. You risked so much for...for Tim, not even knowing if he was alive." Sam blinked a few times and then laughed. "Goodness knows none of us could do it."

"I would have gone," Sarah said, trying to smile. She looked at the doors again. "Why won't they come _out_? What if this means that Tim...has..."

"It doesn't," Naomi said. "If Tim had died, they would have come out sooner. This just means that it's taking longer to stabilize him. What was he like, Agent Gibbs? Where was he?"

"You don't want know," Tony muttered.

"I probably don't, but please."

"He was in prison."

"Prison?" Naomi asked in shock. "Why?"

"He was set up for murder. More than that, we don't really know. He wasn't ever in a condition to tell us."

"Why not?"

"He was sick," Ziva said.

"I know that."

"He was...very sick."

"Please..." Sam said, leaning forward. "...please, don't try and hide what can't be hidden. Ovid said, 'The cause is hidden; the effect is visible to all.' We'll see the effects. Let us know the cause."

Gibbs nodded. "McGee had been kept in prison on Lugniapo. They don't feed the prisoners. The only time they get food is if someone outside the prison brings them something. A woman on Lugniapo did that for Tim, but she couldn't bring him enough. He was nearly starving. The other prisoners beat him, I'm guessing a lot. He got tuberculosis. Twice."

"You won't recognize him," Tony said seriously. "If I didn't know it had to be him, I wouldn't have."

A moment of silence and then Naomi spoke, her voice determinedly calm. "Anything else we should know?"

"Yes," Ducky said. "His mental state is not at its best. Be ready for that."

Before they could answer, the swinging doors finally swung outward.

"Who is here for Timothy McGee?"

Everyone who could stood up.

"Please, sit down. I need to explain some things first."

"What?"

"I'm Dr. Roland. We've got Timothy stablized, but he's still in dire straits right now."

"He has TB," Sam said.

"If only that were all."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that Timothy has a long recovery ahead of him. He's been tentatively diagnosed with cystic echinococcosis, a parasitic disease. He also has the tuberculosis; there is significant damage to his entire body from a slight swelling on his brain to signs of minor internal bleeding. He's also severely malnourished. His immune system is shot. How he's even alive now is beyond my understanding. Any _one_ of the problems he's facing could have been fatal. If one of the developing cysts had ruptured in his liver, he could have died. We're expecting the results of his TB test within the next few hours."

"When can we see our son?" Sam asked.

"In person? You can't. Not for a few weeks at least."

"What?"

"He has tuberculosis, a form that is most likely drug resistant. We will not risk that getting transmitted to any of you," Dr. Roland said firmly. "We have him in quarantine. There is a window through which you can _see_ him and speak with him, but you will not be allowed into the room until he stops showing symptoms."

"Dr. Roland..." Ducky began in concern.

"I've read through your report, Dr. Mallard, and I understand your worry about his psychological state, but we can't risk a drug resistant strain of TB spreading among the general population. It's too dangerous. We've given him a room with an outside window, plus the observation window. That's the best we can do until he starts to recover. I'm sorry."

"Is there anything else we should know?" Naomi asked.

"Yes. Be prepared for what you'll see. I'm not going to try and pretend that his situation right now isn't a little dicey. We're setting up surgery to remove the cysts from his liver. He'll be receiving chemotherapy treatments both before _and_ after the surgery to make sure all the parasites have been removed. That, of course, will make treating the tuberculosis more difficult since that will only further compromise his immune system. The isolation is as much for _his_ sake as it is for yours. I don't think he could tolerate contracting any other illness, no matter how minor it might be."

They all sat in shocked silence. Even those who had rescued him, had seen him already, had not been ready for the litany of problems Tim was facing.

"Can we still see him?" Sarah asked in a small voice.

"Yes. You can. He wasn't conscious when I last checked on him, but you can all come back if you'd like to."

As one body, the large group followed Dr. Roland through the swinging doors, deeper into the Infectious Diseases section of the hospital.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"That's him in there," Dr. Roland said quietly. "If you have any other questions or if you need anything, there's a nurse right outside. You might see some of the staff going in to check on him." He withdrew from the observation room. It was a little like the observation room at NCIS, only the window was two-way.

"Tim," Naomi whispered, almost horrified. She grabbed Sam's hand and held it tightly.

Tim lay on a hospital bed. He was skeletally thin, pale. The red scar on his head seemed livid. There was a yellow tinge to his skin they hadn't noticed before. Wires, tubes, monitors surrounded and covered him, making him look like little more than a massive machine himself. His eyes were closed. They could hear his labored breathing.

Naomi reached out her other hand and touched the window.

"Oh, Tim..." Finally, her usual reserve broke and tears ran down her cheeks.

Sarah hugged whoever was closest to her...it happened to be Ducky. He smiled and put his arms around her as she buried her face in his shoulder.

"He looks better than he did, my dear," Ducky said. "He will recover."

"He looks dead," Sarah said.

"He's not."

"But he _looks_ like he is."

"There's...really no way of...explaining what we're seeing. No way I could ever have imagined..." Naomi said.

Sam, for a wonder, said nothing. He couldn't think of anything to say that would accurately encapsulate how he felt. He just looked through the window at Tim, wishing he could get in and be with his son. It was wonderful to see him, but separated as they were, it was almost unreal. ...hard to believe that it wasn't some sort of cruel joke.

Even though all they could do was stand and stare, none of them showed the slightest desire to leave. None of them spoke, not even Abby. She seemed struck dumb by the sight of Tim lying so still.

After an hour their determination was rewarded. Tim shifted slightly in the bed. One of his hands clenched into a fist. The beeping on the monitor increased in speed. Tim coughed weakly. His eyelids fluttered and then lifted.

"Tim!" Naomi said in relief.

Tim's eyes shifted as he tried to determine where the voice had come from. He coughed painfully again. Then, finally, he looked toward the window where everyone was standing. He stared at them for a long moment.

"Tim, it's us. You're home," Naomi said.

Tim looked at them without saying a word, with no expression on his face. Then, he shook his head.

"No," he whispered, almost inaudibly. "Go away."

Then, he closed his eyes and no matter how they pled with him, he wouldn't look at them again.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

Tim cracked open his eyes and glanced toward the window. There was no one there. He was relieved as he struggled keep his lungs functioning. He didn't know why he was currently imagining his family. He just knew that it was too painful to see them separated from him.

A door opened out of his view. He flinched away and heard the increase in frequency of the beeping sound.

"Timothy, it's all right. I'm Dr. Roland. You're in the Bethesda Naval Hospital."

"Right," Tim said and then began to cough violently. "And you're going to tell me that I'm...getting better...right?"

"Well, slowly, but yes. I wanted to talk with you, explain what's going on."

Tim didn't like the sound of that, but what choice did he have?

"Can...you do...something for me, first?"

"Sure, Timothy."

"Close the...the blinds. All of them."

Dr. Roland gave him a confused look. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. I don't...want to see what's there."

"All right."

Tim felt a measure of relief when the bright sunlight was gone and the place where he had seen everyone before was hidden from his view.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"So...what's the...the news?"

"We got back your TB tests. You have a form of TB called MDR-TB. Multi-drug resistant tuberculosis."

"Drug resistant?" Tim asked, feeling a horrible stab of terror...which showed up in his increased heart rate.

"Yes. It's not unexpected all things considered, but don't worry. We can treat it. Luckily, your strain is only resistant to the two most common drugs used to treat TB."

"Bad...news?"

"The drugs we use in place of it aren't pleasant. They can have severe side effects and you'll be taking them probably for two years."

"I'm...stuck here for...two years?" Tim asked, wanting to beg this man just to kill him and be done with the torture.

"No. No, Timothy, just until your symptoms end which will be a few weeks yet."

Tim felt no better. He was horrified and he couldn't decide if it was better or worse to believe that he truly was in Bethesda. How could they keep him in here like this? He began to cough again. The fit was extremely painful and he leaned forward in an attempt to rid himself of the congestion in his lungs that just wouldn't go away. Dr. Roland was there, helping him.

He wanted to be left alone. Alone because that's the only way he could be okay. Pain came when people were around. Hurt was the result of other people. He wanted to be alone...but he couldn't leave it there. He had to probe at the wound, cause himself more and more pain.

"What else...is wrong?" he asked when he could speak again.

"We've been monitoring some scar tissue in your brain. It seems to be minor but the fact that it's there means we're going to be watching it and your mental acuity."

Mental acuity. Tim almost could laugh. That was the least of his problems.

"And?"

"And you have cystic echinococcosis."

"What is that?"

"You have a parasite in your liver which has formed cysts. They'll have to be removed before they rupture."

Tim felt like the living dead. There was so much wrong with him that he couldn't see anything right. He wanted to be back in the darkness of solitary confinement where he didn't know what was wrong with him, what he had to face. It was easier to believe that this was all an elaborate hallucination brought on by his head trauma or his illness. He'd never been rescued.

"Again, that's not as bad as it might seem. The cysts don't seem to be on the verge of rupture, meaning that we can treat your TB and get that better in hand before going ahead. One thing at a time, Timothy. As long as we take it slowly, you'll be fine. It's going to be a long road, but you can make it."

Tim nodded, but inside he was screaming...like he had when he had realized that his imprisonment was planned. This feeling of being trapped, confined, forced to deal with all these horrible things. He wouldn't show that to the doctor, but he wanted to jump up and run away. The fact that his body was now his jailer only made everything worse. He waited until Dr. Roland left and then he carefully pulled himself into a ball. He could feel all the wires and monitors and tubes, and his lungs were ready to torture him again, but he needed to feel the pressure, the tension in his muscles as he fought against the urge to scream out his misery.

He wished Esosa were there, but he knew she wouldn't be. He was alone.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

When Tim's family arrived at the hospital later that day, they were surprised to see the blinds closed. They asked why and were hurt by Dr. Roland's explanation. He then gave them the same rundown he had given Tim, although with a few more details about the treatment and the adverse effects Tim could be facing. In addition, there was the more negative news, such as the fact that some of the damage both to Tim's body and to his mind could be permanent. It was too soon to tell how much, but they needed to be ready for Tim to be altered both in body and in mind. It was a distinct possibility at this point.

As the others came to see Tim and found that they weren't allowed...at Tim's request...it became more and more of a calamity. It was almost as though Tim were being taken away from them again, snatched away at the moment of triumph. Dr. Roland urged them to be patient. Most people might start out wanting to be alone, but in reality they needed help and comfort and would request it eventually.

That might be true, but the days passed and they were not allowed to see Tim. Every morning, either Dr. Roland or else the on-duty nurse would ask if Tim would let them open the blinds. Every morning, he said no. He made no attempt to look out at the world or at his loved ones. Granted, he was distracted by the fact that, initially, the treatment for TB made him feel even worse than the tuberculosis itself did, but even after two weeks, when breathing wasn't so hard, he still remained adamant that no one see him.

Two weeks became three weeks. It felt more like Tim's appearance had been a dream, a figment of their imagination. They believed Dr. Roland, but it was so hard to look at those blinds and know that the man on the other side didn't want to see them.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Dr. Mallard, could I speak with you for a moment?"

Ducky nodded with a final glance back at the drawn blinds. No one else was there at the moment, although it wouldn't stay that way for long, he knew.

"Come with me, please. We'd better speak in my office."

Dr. Roland led Ducky through the halls to his office. He gestured for Ducky to sit.

"What is it? Is Timothy worse?"

"Worse?" Dr. Roland sighed. "It's hard to tell honestly. He does talk to us, but as little as possible. I've never had a patient here so vehemently opposed to having visitors, especially when they are as close as you all seem to be to him."

"How is he?"

"I gave you the update yesterday. He's still much the same. We're worried about kidney damage from the amikacin and liver damage from two of the other drugs. He's being given a lot of drugs right now. There is a possibility of toxicity resulting from any of them; so we have to have close observation to make sure we avoid that. Unfortunately, that's not my main worry because we expected all this."

"It's the blinds isn't it," Ducky said.

"Essentially. People in quarantine _need_ the support of others to get through the isolation, but Timothy seems to _want_ the isolation."

"I don't think he really does."

"Then, how would you explain it?"

"I don't know. I _can't_ know without speaking to him."

"That's the real reason I asked you into my office."

Ducky looked at him curiously. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that I want you to go in and speak with him."

"He has agreed?"

"No, and I don't like circumventing my patient's wishes, but I think it is in his best interests to go against what he has said. Are you willing?"

"Are you certain that _I _would be the best choice, Dr. Roland? Would not his family or–?"

"You're a doctor. You have credentials. His family seems to be the group he wants most to avoid. You have already spoken with him before. He may have more faith in your presence."

"What brought about this change of opinion?"

"Worry that I'm going to lose a patient, not to illness but to isolation," Dr. Roland said grimly.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

The door opened. Tim kept his eyes closed. No reason to open them and the room kept spinning when he did so anyway. All in all, a good reason to keep them closed.

"Timothy."

Like a red-hot poker in his chest, Ducky's voice penetrated his isolation.

"Ducky..."

"Yes."

"You...can't be here."

"Obviously, I can."

"No, you can't."

"Why not?"

"I don't...want to hear you. Go away."

"I can't do that, Timothy."

"Why not?"

"Because that's not what you really want. Why don't you take a look at me?"

Tim shook his head.

"Why not?"

"You're not really here. You can't be here." Tim started to cough, but it didn't hurt so much as it had.

"Yes, I can. You're in Bethesda Naval Hospital. You're not on Lugniapo anymore."

Tim shook his head. "Don't say that. Don't tell me that."

"Why, Timothy? Why are you trying to deny it when you know it is true?"

"I don't know that...I don't."

"If so, that is because you refuse to _look_."

Tim felt dizzy as he shook his head again. "No. I can't, Ducky. I can't. You're not here. I'm not here."

"Then, where are you?"

Tim couldn't answer. He felt someone moving close to him and he shied away.

"Don't."

"Don't what?"

"Don't touch me."

"Why not?"

"Go away."

"Timothy, may I ask you a question?"

"Yeah."

"While you were in the prison, did any of the prisoners...assault you?"

Tim laughed a little hysterically.

"They never did, Ducky. I promise."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I'm positive. I was there." He laughed again at the thought. He began to cough. He felt the movement and pulled away. "I think I'd know. ...I almost wished...they would."

"What?"

Tim smiled. "It might have...been an improvement. You never know."

"Timothy, do you believe I'm here?"

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because...if you're not..."

"I am."

"If you're not." Tim couldn't even bear to say the words.

"Open your eyes, Timothy."

There might as well have been weights on his eyelids. "It's not enough that I'm hearing you. It's not enough. It can't be enough. I'm still stuck in here. I'm still a prisoner."

"Timothy, when you were imagining us speaking to you, did you ever think we were really there? Did your manifestations of us try to fool you?"

"No. Never. I always knew you weren't really there..that I was alone."

"This time, Timothy...this time, you're _not_ alone. I'm not lying. I am really here."

Tim cracked open one eye and saw Ducky looking at him. He had a mask covering his nose and mouth, but he was there. He reached out to touch his arm, but Tim drew away again. If he tried to touch him and there was no one there...he couldn't bear the thought of that happening to him.

"No, Ducky. No." He coughed a few times. "No. Please."

Ducky's eyes looked moist.

"Timothy, it is time for you to trust us again."

Tim tried to pull away, but Ducky put an arm around him and pulled him into a hug. He didn't disappear. He didn't vanish. He was real. Tim began to sob. He wrapped his own thin arms around Ducky's waist and cried and cried.

"That's it, lad. Let it out."

"I don't...want to be...here...Ducky. I don't want to be...alone in here. I don't...I want to be...free. Let me go. Let me go," Tim begged, sobbing and coughing alternately.

Tim felt Ducky's hand on his head, rubbing the fuzz that had begun to grow back in.

"Oh, Timothy. I'm so sorry."

"I don't want... Don't let them hurt me again. Only...only two choices. Pain or...being alone. I can't...I can't choose pain."

"You don't have to choose pain, Timothy. I won't deny that there may be pain in your future, but that is not because of a choice between isolation and companionship."

"I don't want them to hurt me anymore. Please...don't let them hurt me."

"They won't. You're safe from them now. I promise you, Timothy. You are safe from them."

Tim wanted to believe that. He really did, but he couldn't. Every reprieve was only temporary.

"You're going to leave. I won't be safe. They'll come back."

"No, they won't. ...and I can't stay here forever. You are still contagious, Timothy and although it breaks my heart, you must stay in this room, but you don't have to be alone. If you open the blinds, let us speak with you through the window...we may not be able to touch, but at least you can see and hear us."

"It won't be real," Tim said. "It won't be real."

"It will. It just requires faith."

"I can't believe, Ducky. I can believe that you're here now...but I won't later. It just doesn't feel real. I'm still a prisoner."

"You are a prisoner only in your own mind. If you allowed yourself the freedom you already possess, you would not _be_ a prisoner."

"Don't leave me alone," Tim pled.

He heard tears in Ducky's voice. "I'm so sorry, lad. I must. Will you let me open the blinds? Will you take what we _can_ offer you?"

Tim shook his head. "No. No, I can't. Don't leave."

"I can stay a little longer, Timothy, but then I have to go."

"No. No."

"Yes, I'm sorry."

Tim closed his eyes again as the room began to spin once more. He tried to hold on, but eventually, Ducky pulled away. Tim cried. There was a part of him that knew it wasn't necessary, but he couldn't seem to hang on to that part. He could just cry as the one person he could accept as real disappeared into that nothingness beyond the boundaries of his cell.

All that existed in the world was this room. There was nothing beyond it. Nothing.

...and in the room was only misery.


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

When Ducky told them all of what had happened, of Tim's declarations, they were all cut to the quick by it, by the obvious pain Tim was feeling...the Catch-22 they were all facing. Tim couldn't believe they were real unless he could touch them. They couldn't touch him until he was better. His emotional and mental problems were likely to make it more difficult for his physical healing to progress at a good pace...and back and forth.

Another week...and another week. It had been more than a month since Tim's return and the only time he had been seen was at the very beginning. Ziva and Tony came after work one evening, determined to try and make the staff see reason and let them in. They had been with Tim on Lugniapo. They were already taking the drugs to treat their latent TB. Surely...surely Tim had recovered enough to see them.

"Is Dr. Roland here?" Tony asked.

"We must speak with him," Ziva added.

The nurse smiled and nodded. "He's in his office and has a few minutes right now. Come this way."

Tony glanced at Ziva in surprise. They had expected more resistance.

"Uh...okay."

They followed the nurse and were conducted right in to see Dr. Roland.

"Obviously, the only way you can see a doctor right when you want to is if you're not sick," Tony commented.

"We like to keep people on their toes."

"I'll take up ballet if it would help."

The nurse opened the door to the office and then looked Tony up and down. "You might look pretty good in a body suit. Let me know."

Ziva grinned at Tony's grimace.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"Ah, hello, Tony. Ziva. Have a seat," Dr. Roland said. "I'm guessing that you're here to see Timothy."

"We need to see him. He needs to see _us_. It's wrong that this is the way things are," Tony said.

"We are taking drugs already. He must be getting better. We are not in danger. He will not be in danger from us...and there is so much good that could be found in letting him see us."

"You know that it's not the staff who are insisting on the isolation. It's Timothy himself."

"That is irrelevant," Ziva said. "McGee is not in a state of mind to make the best decision."

"What is it that you're expecting me to say?" Dr. Roland asked.

"We're expecting that you'll see how right we are and let us in to see him!"

"Not both of you, specifically, not _you_, Tony."

"Why not me?"

"You had the pneumonic plague. You already have weaker lungs and as such are much more susceptible to a case of TB. You're lucky you only have to deal with a latent form."

"Well...if both of us can't go..." Tony began, feeling a deep pang. "...can't Ziva go? This isn't just for us. This is for...for Tim. He needs it. He really does. To be honest...he probably needs to talk to Ziva more than he needs to talk to me."

"Why is that?"

"Because Ziva was a prisoner. She knows how it feels. She can help him that way. I can't."

Ziva was quiet, but she touched Tony's wrist and smiled.

"Please?" Tony asked. "Please, let us try to do _something_. I'll wait outside, but let Ziva go in. Maybe she can get him to believe."

"Do you think you can?" Dr. Roland asked Ziva.

"I do not know. ...but if I do not try, I will fail. It is worth a shot, yes?"

"Yes, it is. Timothy has improved quite a bit physically over the past couple of weeks. He is not ready to be out of isolation and you will still need to wear a mask, but I will let you go inside.

Ziva nodded and went to get ready.

"Ziva?"

"Get him to open the blinds. I'll be there," Tony said.

"I will do my best, Tony."

Tony grinned. "Don't forget: you're tougher than he is. You can beat him."

Ziva laughed. "I will not forget."

Tony nodded and then headed for the observation area. Ziva went to the door which would admit her to Tim's room. It took only seconds to put on the mask...but longer to get the courage to open the door. Having been kept from Tim for so long, she was afraid of what she might see.

"You can go inside now."

Just this once, Ziva gave in to her fear and looked at the nurse. "How is he? What does he...look like now?"

The nurse smiled kindly. "He is still ill, and you'll know it just by looking at him, but his breathing has improved quite a bit. He gets nauseous from the pills he has to take and so we still have him on an IV. He doesn't look happy. He doesn't look well...but he doesn't look he's dying anymore." With a gentle hand on Ziva's back, the nurse guided her forward. "He couldn't look worse than he did when he arrived. He looks much better."

Ziva nodded, embarrassed by her anxiety and opened the door. Tim was lying on the bed, apparently asleep. His skin still looked yellow, but at the same time, it was very pale. He was painfully thin and his breathing was still audible. ...but he was breathing, not coughing or wheezing. That was definitely better.

"McGee? ...Tim?" she asked softly.

Tim's eyes fluttered open and then closed...and then opened wide as he stared at her.

"Hello, Tim."

He began to breathe more quickly as he stared at her and he shook his head and swallowed.

"Tim?"

"No. No, you can't be here. You're not here. You're not here." He closed his eyes and shook his head again. He began to cough because he was breathing so heavily.

Ziva hurried over and grabbed the oxygen mask hanging by the bed. She held it over his face.

"Breathe slowly, Tim. It is all right. Just breathe."

"No. Go away. No," he said gasping into the mask.

"Shhh...just breathe, Tim. Just breathe. I am really here. You are safe."

Tim was still coughing.

"Please, breathe, Tim. Even if you do not want to believe that I am here. Even if you cannot believe that I am here. Breathe and calm down."

Gradually, Tim stopped freaking out and stopped coughing. It was a long time, but finally, Tim took a slow steady breath again.

"I am here, Tim. I am really here. It is not in your mind. You are here. You are in Bethesda, not in prison. You are ill, not a prisoner. You have friends and family. You are not alone. Please, Tim. Believe me. Please."

"I can't, Ziva," Tim said through the mask.

"Why not?"

"Because I couldn't...couldn't stand it if I was wrong."

"You are not _wrong_!"

"If I am...it would kill me."

"...but you are not. Why can you not believe that? You yourself left the prison!"

"What if I didn't?"

"You did."

"But what if I didn't? What if I only imagined it? ...just like I only imagined you guys being there? What if I never actually left? What if I'm still there?"

Ziva sighed. Tim's eyes were still tightly closed, so determined was he to preserve what little he believed he had.

"Tim, open your eyes."

"No."

"Open your eyes, Tim."

"No."

"McGee, if you do not open your eyes, I will pry them open with toothpicks!"

As she had hoped, Tim laughed. He coughed, and the laughter didn't last long, but he couldn't help it. Neither could she. His laughter was so sad and so poignant simply because it had been so long since she had heard it before.

Then, finally, Tim tentatively opened his eyes and looked at her.

"You're here."

"Yes, Tim. I am here. I told you I was here. I would not lie to you...not ever."

"It has to be a dream."

"Why?"

"Because I can't leave."

"Tim..." Ziva paused, wondering what she could possibly say that would get Tim to open his mind to the possibility of freedom being his, even when it wasn't yet possible for him to be out and about. If he couldn't accept freedom now, he would never be able to accept it. He would always be afraid it wasn't real. "...do you remember when we were coming back from Somalia?"

"Yes."

"You slept most of the way."

Tim smiled. "I was tired."

"Yes, but before you went to sleep, you spoke to me. I was sitting away from you, away from all of you. I did not want to be close. I could not fathom that my life could change so quickly from the expectation of dying alone and in pain to being free. It did not seem possible."

She smiled at Tim's expression. He was listening almost as if it was a story he'd never heard before.

"You did not say much. You said that you were glad I was alive...as you had before. I asked you if I really was alive."

Tim nodded.

"Then, you did not do what I expected. Instead of saying yes, you held out your hand." She looked at him and nodded when Tim did as he had, lifting his hand, palm up and extending it toward her. "Do you remember what you said to me?"

Tim looked at her, his hand shaking slightly.

"Tim, do you remember?"

Tim looked at his hand and then whispered, "Can you feel my hand?"

Ziva reached out and cradled his hand in her own. "I can feel your hand, Tim."

Tim sniffed, his eyes filling with tears. "Then, you're alive...because I am, too. That won't change."

"I believed you," Ziva said. "I believed you because I knew you were right. You and Tony and Gibbs had saved me and you were still there. It had not changed. All the way from Somalia to NCIS, I could feel your hand, even though you sat away from me and slept. I remembered feeling your hand and I knew I was alive." Gently, turned his hand over and let it rest in her palm. "Can you feel my hand, Tim?"

Tim nodded. "Yes."

"That is because you are alive and I am alive. I am here, in Bethesda. So are you. As soon as you are better, you will be able to leave here. The fact that you are here does not mean you are a prisoner."

Tim stared at their hands. For a long time that was all he did. Ziva didn't rush. You couldn't rush a psyche so damaged as Tim's had been. ...or not damaged so much as changed to survive. She knew how it felt. It was all about survival. It was necessary to shift one's expectations away from anything that had to do with the real world. Everything had to be aligned with the reality of a prison. There was no freedom. There was no hope. There was no sympathy. All that remained was existence, something fought for because, even if there was no real hope, a despairing hope remained buried deeply beneath the resignation. That hope meant that one strove to survive even when surviving meant more misery. Tim had faced all that just as she had. No, their experiences hadn't been the same, but she understood what had caused this change.

"I want to believe you," Tim said finally.

"I know you do."

"I can't."

"You can, but you must try. Now, you are not trying. You are pretending that there is no chance for more...even when you know that there is."

Tim wouldn't look at her.

"They planned it all. ...not the TB, I guess, but once I survived, they planned on putting me in prison. It wasn't even a mistake."

"How do you know?"

"They told me as much. They asked me for information on the people who might be rebelling with the promise that I'd be freed if I told them what they wanted to know."

Ziva watched Tim carefully. He was not trying to pull his hand away. The weight on her own hand was increasing, but she could tolerate that. She didn't want to break this tenuous connection. It had come about intentionally, but it could all too easily be destroyed.

"And you did not."

"I couldn't. I didn't know anything. ...if I had, I...I might have done. ...but I couldn't lie."

"You could have, Tim, and you chose not to."

"There's nothing amazing about that."

"Yes, there is. It is admirable. You were suffering and you chose not to end your suffering but to instead maintain your integrity. I...I do not know that I could have done the same."

"You tried to save us in Somalia."

"Only because it would have meant that my suffering would end. I did not have a hope of rescue. I asked him to kill me because it would have meant that I would die and be free, not because it was noble."

"It saved us."

"No. Your plan saved us."

"Tony's plan. Not mine."

"It does not matter whose plan it was. It matters that it succeeded. You saved me. You brought me home. We have tried to do that, too, but you will not accept that we have succeeded. You insist on making us fail."

Again, silence.

"Tim, can you stand?"

"Don't know. Haven't tried in a while."

Slowly, Ziva closed her fingers around Tim's much larger hand. He didn't pull away. Ziva stood and pulled Tim to do the same. He followed her silent direction, first sitting up and then dangling his skinny legs over the edge of the bed. He stood and wobbled. Quickly, Ziva put her arm around his waist, but she didn't let go of his hand. She kept that connection.

"Dizzy," he said.

"You should stand up more often."

"Why? Where is there to go?"

"To see what you have refused to see."

"What?"

Ziva urged Tim to walk. His steps were fumbling and Ziva was bearing more of his weight than she had expected...not that there was an excessive amount to bear. Tim was still very skinny. As she walked to the window separating Tim from the outside world, she felt his resistance.

"No."

"Yes, Tim. You must see what you are refusing to see. You must see that it is there, that it was not a dream, that you are not in a dream now. You must see that it is all real. You must _accept_ that we succeeded. I will not accept failure, not when I have succeeded. It is a beautiful day. You must see it. I had to keep you from looking outside once before. Now, you must see what you can."

Tim shook his head and again tried to step back. Ziva kept her grip on his hand, but she released his waist and reached out for the blinds.

"Don't make me see it."

"You have to see it, Tim. It is really there and soon...soon you will be out there in it again."

Tim shook his head one more time, but Ziva pulled up the blinds, bathing Tim in sunlight. It wasn't direct, but it was genuine natural light coming into his room. He stood there, staring at it. The view wasn't spectacular. In fact, most of what he could see was a parking lot. That didn't matter. At this point, it could have been a dung heap out the window, complete with smell, and Tim wouldn't have been able to look away. Ziva saw it in his eyes. His brain had been starved of this sight and was now devouring all it could see. ...but at the same time, she couldn't help but notice the fear in his eyes as well. The dread that this would all disappear, that it wasn't real, that he had imagined it and as soon as he stopped thinking, it would be gone...and he would be back in his own personal circle of Hell.

"If you wish to hide it again, Tim, you will have to do it yourself. I will not help you delude yourself any longer."

Tim's free hand made a small spasmodic motion toward the pull...but no more than that. He couldn't hide the world from himself, not voluntarily, even if he feared it wasn't real. He couldn't do it.

"Now, there is one more thing you must see." She replaced her arm around his waist. There was a slight resistance to being drawn away from the sight. In fact, Tim kept looking back, even as his stumbling steps dragged him over to the observation window.

Then, he noticed where he was being taken and, for the first time, he tried to pull his hand away from hers. Ziva tightened her grip.

"No, Tim. You will not hide from us anymore. You will not give in to this fear because it is baseless." She again released his waist and pushed the speaker. "Tony, wake up."

Then, she waited for a just a few seconds before lifting the blinds which had been Tim's means of isolating himself from what he couldn't accept as real. There was Tony standing on the other side of the observation window, grinning like a fool.

"_Hey, McGee! Long time, no see!"_

Tim stared at him in terror and longing at the same time. He tried to pull away from Ziva, but he wasn't strong enough to do it.

"No," he whispered.

"Yes, Tim. _Yes_. This is reality. You must accept it. It is real."

"I can't touch him."

"No, but that is only because he is weak," Ziva said grinning impudently at Tony, even if he couldn't see it. "The doctor said that his lungs were too weak to risk coming in here."

"_Yeah, stupid doctor. What does he know?"_ Tony grumbled on the other side of the glass. Still, he stood and walked over to it. _"Hey, Probie, I'm really sorry that I can't get in there. It sucks. It really does. I was ready to invade anyway, but your nurse is scary. I think she'd hurt me."_

Tim gave a frightened smile.

"He is really there, Tim," Ziva said. "Even though you cannot touch him, he is still there, and you are getting better. Soon you will be able to be with us all...but you must believe until then."

"I can't."

"_Sure, you can, McGee! After everything you've done, everything you've gone through...just waiting a bit longer shouldn't be a problem! ...and do you know how much faster the time will pass if you just let us talk to you? I could show you movies! Ducky could tell you stories! ...and based on what I've see of your dad, I'll bet he could talk a lot, too. Sarah's been doing her homework in here and I think she'd be more than willing to read you stuff...all that classical crap."_

Tim looked away from Tony, and Ziva could feel him trembling. She saw the first tears dripping from his eyes onto the floor.

"_Gibbs could come and stare at you without speaking. It would be just like work again!"_

"It is all real, Tim," Ziva said. "It is real. I am here. Tony is there. We are all safe here in Bethesda. None of us are on Lugniapo. None of us are in that prison. You are simply being treated for your illness."

Tim didn't look up. He kept his head down, the tears kept dripping down. Tony kept talking in his usual way. Ziva would interject with earnest pleas that he believe them. After more than an hour, Tim was nearly collapsing in Ziva's arms. Instead of moving him back to his bed, she got a wheelchair which had been left in the corner and lowered Tim into it, still holding his hand, still trying to force him to see reality. They kept at it. A nurse came in and checked Tim's vitals. She gave Ziva a warning look but she didn't ask them to stop. Tony had looked away once, but Tim was there to see him gesture to whomever he could see. Ziva raised her eyebrows, and he mouthed _parents_ at her.

After another thirty minutes of continual encouragement, Ziva moved around in front of Tim and crouched down, lifting their clasped hands.

"Tim, can you feel my hand?" she asked as she had before.

He nodded.

"Look at me. Look at Tony. We are real. We are really here."

Tim lifted his head fractionally and then looked down again. Ziva nodded to Tony who gestured silently.

"Tim, we are real."

"I know," he whispered. "But I can't..."

"Look up, see what you are missing."

Tim lifted his head again. Sam and Naomi were there beside Tony. Naomi had her hand on the window.

"_Please, Tim, don't push us away," _she said.

"They are really there, Tim," Ziva said. "Believe."

Tim looked at her, at Tony...at his parents. His eyes were filled with tears, tears which continually slipped down his cheeks and dripped onto his and Ziva's clasped hands.

"I know, Tim," Ziva said. "You fear to hope because of all the times you knew that hope was pointless. You fear to accept reality because it might be false. You are afraid of being back in the prison. You don't want to build up any possibility of reality because it might not be. I know all that. I felt it. ...but my hand is real. I am really here. Reality has been shown to you. We are real. We are here. You are here. You are free. Believe."

Tim stared at their hands.

"Can you feel my hand, Tim?"

"I can."

"Can you believe that this is real?"

That was the question.


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

_Three weeks later..._

Tim woke up...frightened. Where was he? What was going on? This wasn't where he thought he'd be. Even though his eyes were still closed, it felt different. This wasn't the right room. Did that mean–? He whimpered...and then felt a hand squeeze his.

"It's all right, Tim. You're okay. Open your eyes."

"Mom?" Tim whispered in disbelief.

"Yes, Tim. I'm here."

"Where am I? It's different."

"You're in your hospital room. Remember? Open your eyes."

"Not prison?" Tim asked, haltingly.

"No. Not prison. Open your eyes."

Tim didn't want to. He was afraid to open his eyes. His mother was sitting there beside him...she said anyway. What if she wasn't?

"Tim, we did this yesterday, remember? Open your eyes."

Tim thought back. Yes...he did remember that, now that he thought about it. Only it had been Ziva who had been there when he woke up.

"Ziva," he said.

"Yes. Ziva was here then. I'm here this morning. It's still safe to open your eyes. Why don't you try it?"

Tim tightened his grip on his mother's hand. He felt another hand on his forehead. He was hot, nauseous and generally feeling unwell. That wasn't unusual, unfortunately. ...but...

"Tim, remember what's happening today?"

Tim thought about it. There was something going on. Something he'd been anticipating with more than a little anxiety.

"It's okay, Tim. Everything is going to be okay. I'm here. It's not in your mind. I'm really here."

Tim swallowed and opened his eyes, taking a series of quick breaths to reassure himself that he was still alive. He looked around. It was a typical hospital room. Not like the place he'd been before...not like...not like the prison. There was a window, letting in bright morning sunlight. There were the usual machines, although fewer of them than he'd had in the past.

Suddenly, Tim remembered where he was and why he was there. He hadn't been in quarantine for over a week. He was still inside much of the day, and he was still sick, but...the TB was gone, although he was still taking the drugs which made him feel sick. Finally, his eyes slid over to his mother sitting beside him, smiling.

"I forgot again," he said. "Just like yesterday."

"And the day before...and the day before. It's all right," Naomi said, still smiling. "You remembered a lot faster today."

Tim tried to smile but he looked at the window. He still couldn't shed that feeling of...of confinement.

"Can I go outside?"

"Tim, do you remember what's happening today?"

Tim thought about it. He struggled to make his sluggish brain function as it was supposed to function.

"Surgery...right?" He looked back.

Naomi nodded. "Yes. You have surgery today. Dr. Roland will be here soon to go over the procedure with you. Today's not an outside day, I'm afraid."

Tim nodded reluctantly. "Why do I keep forgetting?"

"Because you've had a bad experience...to put it mildly. It takes time to recover, Tim. I'm not pushing and you don't need to either. We're all going to be patient in helping you."

"Patient with the patient," Tim said, knowing the joke was weak at best. "Sorry."

"Don't be. We're ready to be here as long as you need us to be."

"Thanks, Mom."

"Now, if you're feeling more settled, I'll see who is waiting to come inside this morning."

Tim smiled. "I'm glad this is real," he said.

"I'm glad it is, too."

Tim watched her walk out of the room and felt the old familiar fear. He didn't know why he couldn't stop worrying about it. He just knew that every time he was alone, there was a rising fear that what he thought he was experiencing was all a dream, all a hallucination.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Naomi walked out to the waiting room, hoping that she could keep her own worry about Tim's mental state from the others. The fact that every morning since his release from quarantine had been marked by a total loss of memory regarding what had happened in the preceding days worried her. The first morning had been the worst. He had awakened, realized he was somewhere other than quarantine and freaked out. Then, the next morning, he had done the same thing, only someone was there. It had repeated every day. Today was definitely better, but he still had been afraid to open his eyes. Dr. Roland didn't seem to think it was too worrying, but Tim's mental acuity was low. He just wasn't himself and it frightened her to think that this might be permanent.

Abby was there waiting. She smiled eagerly when she saw Naomi approach.

"He's awake?"

"Yes, and reoriented."

Abby's face fell. "He forgot again?"

"Yes, but he remembered much more quickly this time."

"Why does he keep forgetting?"

Naomi sighed. "I don't know. Too much time spent dealing with a terrible reality, I guess. He's all right now, though."

Abby nodded and started to go, but then she stopped. "Naomi?"

"Yes?"

"Are you afraid?"

"Of what?"

Abby bit her lip and then blurted out, "That Tim is going to be like this forever! I'm so afraid that he is! I'm so scared that he's not going to get better, that we're going to have to see him like this forever. He's...his mind is...stunted right now. He's...not Tim! He's someone else, and it's so sad to see him like this every day!" She sniffed and wiped away the tears. "I try to be happy...and I am happy that he's here, that he's finally accepting that we are here, too...but I..."

"You want him back to normal."

Abby nodded. "Don't you?"

"Of course, Abby." Naomi sought for something to say that might comfort them both. "But we can't expect more of Tim than he can give yet. I can't give up hope that he'll get better. He had so much to fight against just to get to this point. As his body heals, I can only hope his mind will continue to heal as well. The psychiatrist is talking to him now, and that should help, too."

"What if it doesn't?" Abby asked in a whisper. "He's too smart to end up like this."

Naomi smiled and opened her arms. Abby came over and hugged her tightly.

"Abby, if we're going to force Tim back to full functioning, we'll have to keep ourselves hopeful. Tim _is_ too smart to end up like this. That's why he won't. Having so many problems at once has slowed down his recovery. We have to hang onto that."

Abby nodded and then let Naomi go.

"Okay. I'm okay now. I just need to be my usual perky, happy self." She nodded firmly to herself and walked back toward Tim's room.

Only when she was out of sight did Naomi let her own smile fade. Tim was her son and she would love him no matter what, but this continuing mental damage frightened her.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim was sitting next to the window, like he had been for the last few days. It was strange how quickly the turnaround had come once they had forced the world on him. Before he wouldn't even risk looking out the window. Now, it was hard to get him to look at anything else. In fact, there was a greasy mark on the glass from Tim leaning against it for so long.

Abby was beside him, talking and he was smiling but not saying much in reply. They had learned that Tim would listen even if he didn't actually contribute anything to the conversation. That's why Abby did so well. ...and that's why Tony could bring his movies in and watch them with Tim and do better than Gibbs and Ziva, neither of whom were especially talkative on the best of days. Tim just wanted to know they were there...until such time as he could simply know that without continual reassurance.

However, when Dr. Roland came in, Abby was relieved to be done talking. She took Tim's hand and squeezed it tightly as he tensed up. Sudden entrances startled him, mostly because he was not operating on all cylinders...and it was painfully obvious.

"Good morning, Tim."

"Surgery?" Tim asked.

"Yes, we're going to get you prepped for surgery. Now, why don't you come over here and give me your full and undivided attention."

Tim smiled and then let Abby help him back to the bed. He sat down and opened his eyes wide in a parody of alertness. There was the merest suggestion of a twinkle that gave Abby much more of a thrill than she would have expected. He was joking.

Dr. Roland smiled. "Okay, here we go. The surgery itself will be a pericystectomy, a total removal of the cysts on your liver rather than a partial hepatectomy. The cysts grown fairly large, but I don't anticipate much of a problem. Once they're removed, we'll close up and you'll be in recovery. Now, this means that you'll be out of it for the rest of the day, but we'll make sure someone is with you, all right?"

Tim nodded nervously. Abby felt him squeeze her hand more tightly. He was afraid.

"Remember that the chemotherapy will continue on after and that, in conjunction with your TB medication, is going to make recovery slower than you might like. However, the abdominal cramps should start to ease almost immediately and once you recover from the stress of the surgery itself, you'll definitely be better off than you were."

"Will it stop me from forgetting?" Tim asked, his voice soft.

Dr. Roland smiled sympathetically. "Tim, what you're going through is hard. Let me tell you something. A lot of people forget where they are when they first wake up. It takes them a few seconds to remember their location. That's normal."

"But that's not what I'm doing!" Tim protested.

"Let me finish. You are fighting against a parasitic infection, a nearly-fatal relapse of your TB, the trauma that goes along with your incarceration...and the deficiencies you suffered during that time. ...and you have to fight them all at once. It's hard, Tim. There's no easy way to go about it. The unfortunate thing is that we can't just treat one part at a time. They all interact. They synergize and make each one harder to fight. You forget where you are because you spent a long time convincing yourself that you couldn't be anywhere else. It's going to take time to deprogram your brain. That's what the therapy is for. That's what all this is for."

Abby put an arm around Tim's shoulders. He leaned his head on hers.

"I just want to feel normal again. I want...want to be free."

"Tim..." Abby said, feeling her stomach clench with worry.

"Not like that, Abby," Tim said. "I'm still... I'm still a prisoner, but this time...this time _I'm_ the jailer. I just don't know how to open the door. I don't know where the keys are." He laughed although he had tears in his eyes. "...but I really want to get out. I want to get out."

"You will," Abby said. "I promise, Tim...even if we have to tunnel under the floor and break you out ourselves."

Tim let go of Abby's hand and wrapped his arms around her. Dr. Roland was momentarily forgotten.

"We will, Tim. We'll get you out if we have to break down all the walls and drag you out kicking and screaming!"

"It probably won't take that," Dr. Roland said gently.

Tim let go of Abby and smiled. "So...when does this start?"

"We'll get prep started right away and then we'll roll you in. And don't worry, Tim. Someone will be with you when you wake up. I promise."

Tim looked at Abby. She grinned and kissed his cheek. "Don't worry, Tim. If it's not me, I'll bet Tony will have a good movie for you to watch."

Tim just stared at her for a long moment and she was afraid that he'd gone off again. Then, he blinked slowly at her.

"Don't let him bring a comedy. If I get the jokes, it will hurt to laugh. I think a nice shoot-em-up action movie will be better. Nothing like a good healthy struggle for one's life to brighten the day."

Abby blinked and then laughed. "You'll be okay, Tim. I promise."

"Thanks, Abby."

"All right, you ready?"

Tim nodded slowly.

"We'll be waiting, Tim!"

Abby walked out of the room and headed for work. It was hard knowing that life had to go on while Tim was still recovering, but she felt a little bit better than she had. Not a lot, but some.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim went into surgery and while it was harder than the doctors had expected, he came through it as expected.

When he woke up, Tony was there...with a movie. _Ladyhawke_.

Tim saw only snatches of it, but Tony was right there the whole time, and when he woke up, he was comforted by his presence.

If only it all was that easy.


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

_One month later..._

"That's it, Tim," Dr. Roland said with a smile. "That's the last dose of your chemotherapy. Now, we just have to wait and see if we managed to kill all the parasites."

Tim's face reflected the disgust he felt at the idea. The cysts on his liver were still fresh in his mind. No one knew how, but somehow he had managed to see just what those cysts could look like. It had led to a few anxious days in which he was constantly worrying about them growing back and killing him this time. It didn't even matter that cystic echinococcosis was rarely fatal when treated. He still worried about it, just as he worried about tuberculosis. In fact, he was one step short of being a hypochondriac when it came to any symptom even remotely related to any of his many illnesses.

"Does that mean I can go home now?" he asked.

Naomi and Sam smiled at the common question even as it made their hearts ache. Tim wasn't acting like a child, not really. It was more that he had inhibited himself to the point that he didn't engage with anything other than those things which directly related to his physical health and location. The forgetfulness had eased after his surgery and the longer he had remained out of quarantine. However, that wasn't why he was still in the hospital. It was true that his immune system remained alarmingly depressed, but that could have been dealt with outside the hospital. It was the fact that Tim was so afraid of nearly everything that could even slightly relate to his health and freedom that they didn't want to risk him out in the real world yet.

"Well, let's talk about that," Dr. Roland said.

"You're going to say no. Aren't you."

"Not necessarily. That's why we need to talk about it first."

"What is there to talk about?" Tim asked. "I'm feeling a lot better. I'm done with the chemotherapy. I don't have to be quarantined anymore. My skin isn't so yellow anymore. I'm getting better! I should be able to go!"

"Tim, calm down," Sam said. "It's okay."

Tim visibly tried to rein in his fear. "Sorry. I don't want to be stuck here forever."

"It won't be forever. No matter what," Dr. Roland assured him. "But are you ready to get out into the real world again?"

"Yes. I'm better! I'm home...you say that I am anyway and so..."

"Tim, don't you believe us?" Naomi asked. "Do you think we're lying to you?"

"No...I...no."

Tim looked at his hands in his lap. He was wearing street clothes rather than the hospital gown, and the IV would be removed once he could start eating regular meals again. Sam knew that Tim was fighting against his own mind, trying to believe what he could only vaguely allow to be true. The psychiatrist had told them that Tim's mind was excessively stubborn. Even getting him out into his life again wouldn't remove his fear, his anxiety and his conviction that everything could end at the drop of a hat. It had to happen inside him. They needed to find something that could shake Tim out of his current inward attention and get him to engage with the world around him.

"Tim, you need to trust us."

Tim wouldn't look at them.

"Walter Anderson. 'We're never so vulnerable than when we trust someone - but paradoxically, if we cannot trust, neither can we find love or joy.'"

Tim was silent for a long moment, but then he spoke, still without lifting his head. "Ralph Waldo Emerson. 'Trust the instinct to the end, though you can render no reason.' My instinct says to be afraid."

"'You may be deceived if you trust too much, but you will be in torment if you do not trust enough.' Frank Crane."

Another long silence as Tim thought. "Publius Syrus. 'Confidence, like the soul, never returns whence it has once departed.'"

"'You must trust and believe in people or life becomes impossible.' Anton Chekhov."

Tim was again silent. ...but this time, he made no attempt to break the silence. Although it was modifying the rules, Sam simply pulled out another quote.

"'It is better to suffer wrong than to do it, and happier to be sometimes cheated than not to trust.' Samuel Johnson."

Again, Tim did not try to break the silence.

"'It is impossible to go through life without trust: That is to be imprisoned in the worst cell of all, oneself.' Graham Greene. ...and it's true, Tim. You have to break out of this and trust the people you know aren't lying to you."

Still, Tim was silent, staring at his hands which began to moving slightly. Back and forth. Back and forth, rubbing his thighs.

"Tim," Naomi said.

Tim sniffed and a tear dropped.

Naomi put her arm around Tim.

"'We fear...violence...less than our own feelings," he whispered.

"What, Tim?"

"'P-Personal, private...s-s-solitary pain is...more terrifying than what anyone...else can inflict.' Jim M-Morrison."

"Is that how you feel?" Sam asked softly.

Tim nodded, still staring at his hands.

"Tim, you don't have to bear it alone. Whatever your pain is, you can tell us. You can let us know about it."

"You...You already know."

"You're afraid that this isn't real?"

Tim nodded again.

"Even though you know it _is_?"

Another nod.

"I... Every time...when I'm alone, when I'm... when I remember what happened. What if I'm just...stuck in...in a delusion? I wouldn't know...until it ended, and I couldn't... if it was..."

Naomi hugged Tim tightly.

"It's not, Tim. It's not a delusion. This is all real."

"What if it isn't?"

"Do you remember C. S. Lewis' _Chronicles of Narnia_?" Sam asked.

"Sure."

"_The Silver Chair._"

"I..."

"Think back, Tim. Remember?"

"You're...talking about Puddleglum?" Tim asked.

"Yes. Remember what he said in response to the suggestion that Narnia was all a dream and had never existed?"

"I don't..."

"He said to her, 'Suppose this black pit of a kingdom of yours _is_ the only world. Well, it strikes me as a pretty poor one. And that's a funny thing, when you come to think of it. We're just babies making up a game, if you're right. But four babies playing a game can make a play-world which licks your real world hollow. That's why I'm going to stand by the play-world. I'm on Aslan's side even if there isn't any Aslan to lead it. I'm going to live as like a Narnian as I can even if there isn't any Narnia.' Tim, even if you can't quite believe that this is real...what is there to gain in persisting in fearing that you'll wake up? If you do wake up, there's nothing you can do about that. ...but isn't this world that you're in right now worth believing in?"

Tim nodded, still crying. "I just don't know how. I want to."

"You just have to risk being disappointed, Tim. You've done that before. Sometimes, you do end up being disappointed, but other times...it's better than you ever dreamed it would be. You've been outside. You've seen where you are. Believe that it's true."

"I want to," Tim said again.

"We'll help you, Tim."

Tim cried softly for a few minutes. Then, he sat up and looked at Dr. Roland.

"Can I go home?" he asked again. "I want to go home."

"Not alone, Tim," Dr. Roland said.

Tim nodded. "Just let me go home."

"Okay."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Two weeks later..._

Tim sat at his typewriter, just staring at it. He couldn't fathom, at the moment, ever wanting to write anything again. When he lived every day in fear that the world around him was a fantasy, why would he want to risk venturing into a fantasy world voluntarily?

"Tim, breakfast is ready."

"Thanks, Mom. Are you sure Dad is okay by himself?"

Naomi laughed from behind him and Tim turned around.

"Do you know what your father would say if he heard you say that?"

Tim managed to smile.

"Not exactly, but I can guess."

"Don't worry, hon. Your father has work to do and you need me here. It's okay."

"Okay."

"Now, breakfast."

Tim walked over to the counter. It was strange having his mother in his apartment, cooking for him. It felt bizarre and almost unreal. ...and anything that felt even slightly unreal was disconcerting in the extreme. ...but he wanted her here so much that he didn't mind. They ate together...at the counter since there was no space for a kitchen table. When they'd finished there was a knock at the door.

"You expecting anyone?" Naomi asked.

"No."

"Then, you'd better answer it."

Tim smiled and walked over to the door. He looked through the peephole and was surprised...so much so that he quickly opened the door.

"Ziva! What are you doing here?"

"Is it too early?"

"Uh...no... We just finished breakfast." Tim stared at her for a few seconds and then remembered that he should invite her in. "Would you like to...come in?"

"For a moment only," Ziva said with an encouraging smile. "I actually came to ask if _you_ would like to come out."

"Come out?"

"Yes. To NCIS. It has been a long time since you were there, and we were wondering if you would like to spend the day there...even if you are not yet ready to work. ...we would like to see you."

"Uh..." Tim floundered a bit. He hadn't yet confronted much of his old life. Just being in his apartment was taking massive readjustments.

"If you do not want to come, that is fine."

"It's...It's not that...Ziva. It's...just that..." He struggled to find the right words. He looked over at his mother...who was pretending to focus on the dishes and obviously wasn't going to give him any help.

"We will make sure that you are not overwhelmed, McGee, if that is what worries you. We will not require you to work yet. ...but NCIS is a part of your life, is it not?"

"Yes."

"A part of your life that you have missed, I hope."

"Yes," Tim whispered, unable to convey with a word just how much.

"Will you come?"

Tim found himself nodding, being ushered out of his apartment and riding with Ziva through the streets of DC before he quite knew what was going on. He stared out the window at the Yard as its walls loomed up on his right.

"Almost there," Ziva said.

"Yeah."

"How do you feel about coming here, McGee?"

Tim shrugged. His words had abandoned him once again and he just stared. Ziva smiled and drove them inside. She parked and they walked together into the building. They were passed in. It was like walking in a dream.

"McGee!" Abby said excitedly as he stepped off the elevator. "You're here! I wasn't sure if you'd come!" She hurried over to him, but her hug was gentle rather than a threatening launch.

"Probie! Excellent!" Tony said, standing up. He was smiling widely and he clapped Tim on the back and then put his arm around Tim's shoulders and led him over to the empty desk...to Tim's own desk. "Look at how empty this is. It's been waiting for you, Probie."

"I'm...not here to work," Tim said softly, looking around, feeling a bit bewildered.

"Oh, I know, but you are needed to complete the picture. Have a seat." Tony firmly but not meanly pushed him down onto his chair. Abby let him go only reluctantly.

"How are you doing, McGee?" Gibbs asked.

Tim opened his mouth but then didn't say anything. He just looked around at everything that was a part of his life, all these trappings that he'd never thought he'd see again.

"Is it too much?" Gibbs asked.

Tim shook his head, but still couldn't bring himself to speak, half afraid of breaking the delusion.

"Okay. We have a case."

"But Boss, he just got here!"

_Thwack!_

"Thanks, Boss."

The normalcy of that exchange brought a smile to Tim's lips.

"I've got to get to work, too, Tim," Abby said. "You want to come down to the lab?"

Finally, Tim felt he could speak. "Not now. Just want to...sit here...for a little while."

"Sure, okay. You want to come down, come down. I miss having you there," Abby said and kissed him on the cheek.

"Okay."

"Ducky knows you're up here," Gibbs said. "He'll probably come up when he can."

"I'm okay," Tim said softly. "It's all right."

"Are you sure, Probie?"

"I'm sure. Go."

They left, but Tim noticed that they weren't exactly excited about it. He, however, felt strange but not bad sitting at his desk as they left. People stopped by to say hello and welcome back, but no one lingered. It was all right. As he sat there, he just tried to believe that he was really sitting at his desk, that this wasn't a dream. It was such a beautiful sight. The orange walls, the exposed brick, the filing cabinets, the desks, the stairs...all of it. Beautiful. Real? Who knew.

"_...to Lugniapo for breaking news..."_

Tim literally jumped at the name of his jail. He didn't know how long he'd been sitting there. He turned his eyes onto the television. Everyone had avoided talking much about where he'd been, what had happened, and to hear the name was a shock to his system. He stood up and walked over to the TV. With a shaking hand, he increased the volume.

"_Thank you. This is Matthias Terrenton for ZNN. It appears that the rumors of yet another uprising on the tiny island nation of Lugniapo are true."_

Footage obviously shot from a cell phone camera came up on the screen.

"Aolano," Tim whispered in shock.

"_This footage, sent to the station shows the army trying to beat back the protests. They are fighting against government corruption and oppression."_

Tim watched the footage, trying to find any indication of Esosa or Jimeno being involved, even though he knew it was only a remote possibility.

"_It is unknown how widespread the violence is. This footage, from the capital city of Aolano, shows the Lugniapi fighting the military police. Some are armed with guns, but not many."_

There were screams and the shaking of the camera increased, making it almost impossible to see any details. Then, it looped and began again. The words of the reporter faded away in Tim's mind as he stared and stared.

"Mama," he whispered.


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**

"That will do, Mr. Palmer. Please return the lieutenant to his temporary place of rest and clean up."

"Where are you going, Doctor?"

"I have it on good authority that Timothy is upstairs."

"He's back?" Jimmy asked in surprise. "I didn't...think he was...ready for that yet."

"Oh, he's not. This is merely a visit. And as such, I plan on visiting him."

Jimmy smiled.

"Once you have finished with your tasks, I would suggest that you come up as well. Timothy would probably appreciate the company."

"All right, Doctor."

"Good lad."

Ducky got on the elevator and headed up to the bullpen. As he stepped off, however, he didn't see Tim. ...but he did notice that the television volume was up rather louder than it normally was when no one was in the bullpen.

"Timothy?"

"_If you remember, Matthias, the last time this tiny nation was in the news was due to accusations by Sam and Naomi McGee of Ohio that the government was hiding its abduction of their son Timothy."_

"_That's right. Calls to their home went unanswered today, but here's a review of their last interview from four months ago."_

"Timothy?" Ducky called as the familiar sight of Sam and Naomi came up on the screen, both looking absolutely devastated as they pleaded for the release of their son. Then, he saw the chair beside Tony's desk move slightly and he walked over. Tim was sitting on the floor, rocking back and forth, staring at the television in morbid fascination.

"Timothy?" Ducky repeated gently.

"This is the fourth time they've shown the interview," Tim said, his voice distant.

Ducky noticed that Tim started speaking along with the responses his parents made.

"_We know that our son is on Lugniapo. The government has done nothing to prove that he left."_

"_What about the footage released by the government showing him boarding the plane?"_

"_Tim is left handed. He wears his watch on his right wrist, not his left. They simply reversed the film to make it look like he was leaving."_

The interview went on.

"I'll bet Abby figured that out," Tim said, still staring.

"I believe so."

"_And now back to Matthias Terrenton for an update on the revolution and uprising in Lugniapo."_

"_Thanks, Janene! We still have only scanty information coming out of Lugniapo. The videos we've been receiving are being sent from the island but we don't know who they are from. The embattled government, who, if you remember, was itself the result of a military uprising, is denying the serious nature of the revolt and is refusing to allow anyone onto the island."_

"_What about the tourists who might have been there?"_

"_We have no knowledge of the number of tourists, nor do we know for certain if they are still there or if they have all been deported. We have hints that those with missing family members are discretely trying to get in contact with them."_

"What about the people who live there?" Tim whispered. "What about them? Don't you care about them?"

"_Wait, I've just received word that another video of the chaos in Aolano has been received by ZNN. We'll play that now. Warning to our sensitive viewers. Some of the images may be graphic."_

Ducky knelt down beside Tim.

"Timothy, are you worried about Esosa and her family?"

"The last revolution...Marjani's husband was killed and she was forced to leave to survive. What's going to happen this time? What if they find out that..." Tim trailed off.

Ducky blinked in surprise. Tim had almost admitted that he'd been rescued...and he'd almost done it without any prompting.

"Find out what, Timothy?"

Tim blinked a few times. "Find out that..." Then, he lurched to his feet. "Mama!" he said, reaching out for the television.

Ducky looked up at the screen. The video was shaky as the person holding the camera or phone or whatever it was ran through the streets. There was a pause as the runner came to a stop in a city square. A large group of people was fleeing from an obvious military detachment, all armed with guns, rifles. One person turned and threw a rock at them. A soldier immediately fired at the young man. People in the group began to scream. One woman broke away from the group and ran toward the injured man.

It was Esosa.

"No. No..."

Then, suddenly, the camera swung away from Esosa and the person began to run again. ...and the video ended.

Tim was almost touching the screen and then he wilted, head in his hands.

"They can't lose any more...Ducky...they can't!"

Ducky directed Tim onto Tony's chair and then kept an arm around him.

"You don't know that they have."

"If I went back...If I went back there...would it help? I'll go!"

"Back where?" Ducky asked, hating that he was using a tragedy to try and foster a breakthrough, but desperate enough to use any opportunity.

"I'll go back to Lugniapo! I will! They can put me back there..." Tim looked terrified at the very thought, but he continued. "...back in prison...if it will keep her safe, keep them all safe! I'll go back!"

Ducky smiled, even as his heart ached. "No, lad. It doesn't work like that."

"Why not?"

"Because one person can't stop a revolution, no matter how pure and earnest his intentions might be. This has nothing to do with you. Your presence or absence won't help or hinder."

Tim looked at the screen again. The video was being looped and analyzed. The elevator dinged and Jimmy got off.

"Ah, Mr. Palmer. Would you be so good as to go and fetch Abigail?"

"What's happened?"

"A revolution, Mr. Palmer."

Ducky watched as Jimmy's eyes took in Tim crying on the chair, the footage being shown on the television screen. It was quick, but Jimmy, for all his awkwardness and inappropriate comments, took things in rather quickly and leapt to conclusions at the speed of light. They might be strange conclusions at times, but generally they were right. He nodded silently and got back onto the elevator.

"So...I'm stuck here? Watching?" Tim asked, looking back at the looping video.

"Yes, lad. You can't go back there. It won't help."

"What do I do, Ducky? What do I do?" Tim shook his head in desolation. "What can I do?"

"I know it hurts to hear it, but you can do nothing...not for Esosa, not for her family," Ducky said, and then a thought struck him. "...but there may be something you _can_ do."

"What?"

"You can bring comfort to the member of Esosa's family who _is_ within your reach."

"I don't understand."

"You have letters to give to Marjani. She is more than likely seeing the same news. They could be a comfort to her."

Tim looked up at Ducky. "I can't give them to her. You should. Or Gibbs. Or Tony. Or Ziva. Or anyone but me. I got her sister killed. I put her family in danger...and I was I just trying to help...and I'm safe and sound here and...and they're... They could be..." Tim tried to stand up. "I have to... have to do something!"

Ducky gently pushed him back to the chair.

"Timothy...where are you right now?"

"What?"

"Tell me. Where are you? What is your current location?"

Tim's eyes flashed around the room.

"NCIS."

"Where?"

"Why does it matter?"

"Just answer my question, please, Timothy."

"DC."

"Are you anywhere _near_ Lugniapo?"

"No," Tim said softly, his eyes drifting back to the looping video.

"That's right. You're not on Lugniapo. You're not there."

"I know."

"Yes, you knew that before. Do you believe it now?"

"I want to help." Tim's eyes closed in grief as Esosa's attempt to help the wounded revolutionary again graced the screen.

"You can't help them, Timothy. There is _nothing_ you can do for them. ...but this should give you hope."

"Why? How? What kind of hope?"

Ducky crouched down in front of Tim. "Esosa was free. That means that no blame for your escape fell on her."

Tim blinked at him. Ducky watched as his mind struggled to process that information. It was sad to see him still struggling mentally, but this was the most engaged he'd been since his rescue. If it wasn't back at his former level of acuity, at least it was something.

"She was running," Tim whispered.

The elevator dinged.

"Yes. She was running. She was not restrained in any way. I share your fear for what might have happened to her, but you can release any fear that she and her family were imprisoned for their aid."

"They're free?"

"They were."

"Why did he have to turn away right then?" Tim asked, watching as the camera swung away from the scene and the video ended again.

Ducky looked over at Abby who was standing, waiting for instructions. He smiled.

"Abigail."

"Jimmy told me. I saw it on the news. I'm sorry, Tim."

Tim didn't answer. Abby came over and hugged Tim tightly. "I'm really sorry."

Still no answer.

"Talk to me, Tim. Please?"

Suddenly, Tim put his arms around Abby and held her with more strength than she had even thought he possessed. He began to cry.

"She saved me, Abby. She saved me. ...and I can't save her."

Abby held Tim tightly and rocked him. She knew that, right now, just talking wouldn't help. Probably nothing would...because Tim was right. He couldn't save Esosa. He could only hope for the best.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"_There are reporters outside our house, Naomi,"_ Sam reported. _"Do you have any idea why? I've been teaching all day and I just zoomed in past them."_

Naomi was sitting on Tim's bed, watching the news. Even though she had never been there, Lugniapo had been in her thoughts so much over the last year that she couldn't help but be engrossed and horrified at the videos they were showing.

"It's about Lugniapo. It must be because of the revolution going on there right now."

"_What? Do they think we have something to do with it?"_

"I doubt it. Oh...I wonder if Tim has seen this. It will terrify him to know what's going on there. The images are awful, Sam."

"_Where's Tim?"_

"His friends finally implemented their plan to get him to NCIS. He agreed. I haven't heard from him yet."

"_Should I give them a 'no comment' or tell them what they can do with their microphones?"_

Naomi laughed. "Tell them whatever you want to, Sam. I'm glad they're in Ohio and not here. ...how are we going to keep them from finding out that Tim is back?"

"_We won't be able to keep it from them forever...unless we can let it fade from the national consciousness. Eventually...I think we're going to have to do something about it."_

"Eventually...but Tim can't take it right now. He's better, but nowhere _near_ well enough to tolerate all the scrutiny and badgering he'll get from reporters who want to know how he got back and where he was."

"_Give me some credit, dear. I can keep my mouth shut. ...or at least I can fill it with inconsequentials rather than important things. They won't get anything out of me. Finally, my military training will pay off!"_

"I love you, Sam."

"_And I love you...and our children too, I guess. Don't worry, Naomi. Tim is back and he's finally on the road to recovery. I wouldn't spoil that for the world. ...not even for a grant!"_

Naomi laughed and said good-bye. Still, she couldn't tear her eyes away. Not having seen any of the people to whom Tim owed such a great debt, she had no idea whether or not she was seeing them on the screen now...but the base and emotional part of her hoped that the government fell...and that every member of that government was killed, or arrested and put in the same filthy prison Tim had been confined in.

However, at the same time, she was afraid for the innocents who would more than likely suffer for the cause...whatever that cause might be.


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25**

The world watched as the government on Lugniapo began to topple under the onslaught of massive protests and rioting. A raid on Sirja Prison as well as a number of smaller prisons scattered around the island resulted in the release of hundreds of prisoners, many of whom ran roughshod through the streets of Aolano, destroying all that came in their path and stealing whatever they found of value. Guards were killed. Some of those who had come to the aid of the prisoners were injured, by whom was unknown. There were too many possibilities.

The embattled government released a few statements and some footage showing the violence on the part of the protestors. There were numerous instances of the military being beaten by mobs. In response, cell phones, cameras and other less-than-official means were used to beam footage of women and children being driven away from their homes. Bodies were shown lying in the street, the military refusing to allow burials. Every step taken to restore order led to a ramping up of the violence.

Aolano, Cascheya, and five other cities on the island began to burn. Aolano itself looked more and more like a ghost town as former residents fled to the forests for safety.

...and the world watched it happen.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim was glued to the TV, watching the same videos over and over, trying to catch a glimpse of someone he knew, anyone. He would point them out as he saw them, but none were Esosa or her family.

"That's Pidaro. He was in prison with me. I don't know why. He liked beating me up."

"That's one of the guards. I hit him once. I felt bad about it."

Then, there was a shot of the bodies at the prison.

"That's the warden. There's one of the other guards who was nice to me...the body on the left."

He had seen the same newscasts so many times that he could (and did) recite along with them.

"That's one of the leaders...one of the people who came to the prison and spoke to me."

Naomi was worried about Tim's sudden obsession with the news. It had finally pulled him out of his fear that he had never been rescued, but it had created in him a desire to see nothing else. He didn't care about seeing outdoors. All he cared about was watching the television and seeing if there was someone he knew, seeing if a new video had been received.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim wasn't the only one glued to the television...although in this case it wasn't her own television since she didn't own one.

Marjani went to any location where a television was showing something about Lugniapo. She had seen, as Tim had, the brief shot of Esosa, but nothing else and she was desperate to know more. She didn't know if the attempted rescue of Tim had been successful because she hadn't dared return to NCIS, but she hoped that he had been saved...and that he would some day be able to tell her about her family.

Until that time, she watched the news and tried not to let her tears at the destruction of her homeland be obvious to those around her.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

There was a knock at the door. Tim didn't move away from the television, his attention didn't even flicker. Naomi watched him for a moment and then sighed and shook her head. She walked to the door and opened it and then stopped in surprise.

"Tony...I didn't expect to see anyone from NCIS here. It's the middle of your work day, isn't it?"

Tony smiled a bit uncomfortably. "I'm...sort of here officially."

"Sort of?"

"Okay, I'm not here officially at all...but I'm here with full knowledge of...some of my superiors."

Naomi laughed. "You don't have to justify yourself to me. I just don't want you getting into trouble. Tim is...the same as he's been for the last week. If you have things to do, he'll still be the same when you have time. Unfortunately. I just can't get him to stop thinking about it. Nothing is as important." She looked back over her shoulder. "As worried as I was before...I'm more worried about this. Tony, there's nothing he can do. He can't go back to Lugniapo...even if it were physically possible. He still couldn't go. He knows that. He must. ...but whether he does or not, he doesn't care."

"Actually...Naomi, that's kind of why I'm here."

Naomi looked back.

"What do you mean?"

I'm here to see if I can help break McGee out of this..." He floundered.

Naomi smiled sympathetically. "It's an obsession, Tony. Call it what it is."

"Okay. This obsession, then. Do you have the letters for Marjani handy?"

"Yes. I leave them out where he can see them. I've tried to talk to him about them, but he won't. If you're going to try, then know that he's not going to do it."

Now, Tony looked really uncomfortable.

"What?"

"What if I didn't give him the option?"

"In what respect?" Naomi asked, feeling herself stiffen slightly. She could tell that Tony noticed.

"What if Marjani was...downstairs in my car...right now...waiting to come up here."

"What _if_?"

Tony smiled but it wasn't a happy smile. "We were thinking..."

"Who is _we_?" Naomi asked, now unsure as to whether she should be relieved, happy or angry at what had been arbitrarily decided by people who were _not_ Tim's family _nor_ his doctors.

"Us...at NCIS..." Tony said, trying to explain.

"And what gives you...at NCIS, the right to...to do all this...without even _telling_ me?" Naomi asked, feeling angry although not for any discernible reason. "Without asking? Without...warning me that you were about to...to try and force my son to do something he doesn't want to do? Who are you to take that on you?"

She could see Tony trying to decide how to respond and then he bristled slightly at the implication of callousness.

"We're the people who helped McGee get away," Tony said, almost plaintively. "The people who saw him so afraid of dying that he almost did...the people who..." He stopped and looked away. "...who had to listen to him telling them that he deserved to be in prison, the people who had to feel like his jailers because he was too sick to be let out into the open. That's who we are."

Chagrined, Naomi squeezed Tony's arm. "I'm sorry...Tony. I'm sorry."

Tony shook his head quickly and smiled as he looked back. "No, I'm sorry. I guess I...maybe we all forgot for a minute that...that the Probie actually has a family. Most of us don't...at least not like he does. It seems like an MCRT requirement to be dysfunctional. ...and I'm not fulfilling my role as the happy-go-lucky guy."

Instinctively, Naomi hugged Tony. "Is that who you're supposed to be? ...because you're not very good at it."

Tony laughed and pulled back, obviously feeling awkward. "I guess not. Well...anyway...we were thinking that McGee's not going to let this go on his own. He just can't do it. Probably partly because he thinks he deserves it...for whatever reason. ...and Marjani...she needs to have those letters, and McGee wants her to have them, but _he_ needs to be the one to give them to her. So...we tracked her down and told her about Tim, what happened and what he's doing...and that he has the letters for her but is afraid to give them to her."

"Did you tell her about her sister?"

Tony nodded, grimacing. "We didn't think it was right to make her wait to find that out, not when we knew. She cried. A lot. Ducky was there. Thank goodness."

Naomi smiled. "You say that she's here now?"

"Yeah. We actually told her a couple of days ago and then asked her if she would be willing to talk to McGee or if she'd rather just have one of us give her the letters."

"Why?"

"Well...Ducky said that she deserved the option because, even though none of us think it was McGee's fault that Alayla died, Marjani might not appreciate being asked to help the one who was there when it happened. We're all focused on McGee, but she's lost a lot herself. She asked for some time to think about it and yesterday, she came and told us that she would like to talk to McGee. I don't know what she's going to say, but I think that if anyone can get McGee away from the TV, it will be her."

"You'll have to get his attention, first," Naomi said.

"I know. I'm good at that."

"Do you want to invite Marjani up? She's welcome."

"No. I want to get McGee out of here and down to her."

"Go ahead. I hope you can." Naomi gestured toward the bedroom.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tony heard Tim's voice, speaking along with the news anchor as he headed back to the bedroom.

"Hey, McGee."

"There's Pidaro. It's a new video as of this morning. They've shown it five times now. He's still alive."

"Yeah, great. Could you listen to me for a second, please?"

"I wonder if he was really guilty of anything...I don't think he was rehabilitated by being in prison, though. Some of his fellow prisoners are running around. I'll bet they're looting."

"McGee!"

Tony could tell that Tim heard him. He couldn't quite suppress the instinct to react when people spoke to him, but he was pretending that he wasn't hearing anything but the television. Well, there was an easy way to fix that. They hadn't tried it before since it was so nice to have Tim thinking about something _other_ than his imprisonment, other than the possibility of his health degrading again. ...but now, this was _all_ he was thinking about and it was no better. So...Tony took a breath, walked over to the television...and turned it off.

What surprised him was how quickly Tim reacted to the event. Up to this point, all they'd seen from Tim was a sluggish plod from place to place, a tentative motion forward, backward...up and down. ...and a soft voice, too soft to be natural. But not this time.

"Turn it back on!" Tim shouted, springing to his feet. "I might miss something!"

"No, McGee. We need to talk."

Tim ran at the TV, Tony easily held him back, but it was almost shocking to have Tim suddenly shift from near-sedentary to manic in two seconds.

"No! I might miss it! I have to see!"

"See _what_?" Tony asked. "What do you expect to see, McGee? More people running around shouting? More people getting killed? More buildings being burned and looted? What is it, you're expecting to see?"

"I have to...to see what happens," Tim said.

"McGee, it'll take weeks for you to know what is going to happen. This isn't going to stop anytime soon. It just isn't. You can't sit here all day staring at it."

"I have to!"

Tony had a firm grip on Tim's arms, and he shook him just a little.

"Why?"

"I have to..."

"Why, Tim?" Tony asked. "Please, tell me why."

"I..." Tim looked into Tony's eyes, and Tony saw Tim's pain. It had probably always been there, but he just hadn't noticed.

"Why?" he asked again, more gently.

"I can't have...a life...when...when theirs is...is in shambles. I can't live if they can't."

"Why not?"

"They gave up everything for me. ...everything...and..."

"You don't have to do the same. In fact, they don't _want_ you to do the same."

"How do you know?"

"Because if all they wanted was for you to sit in here like a bump on a log, they wouldn't have bothered trying to save you in the first place. They saved you so that you could _live_, Tim! ...and if you refuse to do that, you're making it so that it means nothing! Do you think Esosa would want you to be sitting there on your bed watching her island burn?"

Tears began to form in Tim's eyes.

"Wh-What should I be doing then?"

"Getting your life back, McGee. That's what you need to do. Get your life back."

"I don't know how."

"Well, I don't either...but it's not going to be by you sitting on your butt, staring at the TV."

Tim smiled but then began to cry...and he finally stopped trying to get to the television.

"I don't want them to die."

"No one does."

"I don't want... Lugniapo is a beautiful place...and they're destroying it."

"Yes."

"Tony..." Tim tried to stop crying but couldn't and he tried to blink the tears away but more kept coming. "...they're destroying...everything. Not just the bad. The good is... Why does everything have to be...be destroyed? Why? Why do good people have to die?"

Tony felt his own throat tighten. "I don't know, Probie. If I did, I could stop it. Lots of good people die. Times like this...you can't control what happens. It just happens...and there's nothing anyone can do until it runs its course. Maybe something good will come out of it. Maybe not. ...but, McGee, you can't stop it by stopping your own life."

Tim stared at his feet and took a number of shaky breaths and then looked at Tony again.

"There's...there's something you want me to do, isn't there."

Tony smiled. "You know me too well, Probie," he said, nearly giddy with excitement inside. That was more like the Tim they all knew. The one rightfully-suspicious of Tony's motives.

"What is it?" he asked, sniffing back more tears.

"Marjani is downstairs."

Tim's eyes widened and he shook his head.

"Oh, no...Tony. Please, no. I can't tell her that..."

"She knows already. We told her...but she needs to get those letters from you. She needs to hear about everything you know of her family. She needs that from _you_, Probie, not from us."

"She should have them."

"Yes. From _you_."

"Not from me."

Tony shook Tim once more. "It can _only_ be from you, McGee."

"Are you sure? They're not that heavy." He tried to laugh.

"You need to, McGee. You know it. I know it. Everyone knows who needs to put those letters into Marjani's hands."

More tears, shaking hands wiping them away.

"Come on, McGee. Come outside."

Tim looked out the window...for the first time in days.

"There's a lot waiting for you, McGee. ...and Marjani's first."

Tim stared at the bright sunny day.

"...and she's probably really getting bored outside, Probie," Tony said, smiling mischievously. He was relieved when Tim managed another tearful laugh.

Tim looked away from the window, at the television and then at Tony.

"Where are the letters?"


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26**

"Out there, McGee," Tony said, gesturing to the main room.

Tim turned and looked.

"I guess I have to go out there, huh."

"Yeah, you do."

Tim took a breath. "Okay."

Tony let Tim go, no matter how much he wanted simply to push him out of the room, jam the letters into his hands and then push him outside. If he could, he'd have moved Tim's jaw just to get him talking. However, he was well aware that he couldn't do any of that. Instead, he gestured once more and Tim nodded, wiping tears away.

He walked out of his bedroom...and there was Naomi, standing there with the packet of letters in her hands, holding them out to Tim.

"They're right here, Tim."

"Been planning this long?" he asked, his voice still full of tears.

Naomi shook her head with a smile. "I just adapt to the circumstances...as we all do. They've always been here, waiting for you."

Tim took them in his hands, turning them over and over, feeling every fold. He looked at them for a long time. Then, without a word, he walked toward the door, opened it and left his apartment for the first time in days.

When he was gone, Tony was surprised to see Naomi start to cry. She was always so strong and certain that seeing her breakdown now when Tim seemed to be making progress threw him for a loop.

"Naomi?" he asked tentatively.

She laughed through her tears, wiping them away...much as Tim had. A desperate attempt to hide what couldn't be hidden. Like Tim. Hesitantly, Tony walked over and hugged her. He was, again, surprised that she didn't stiffen or try to pull away in embarrassment. She simply put her own arms around him, accepting the comfort he was offering. That was different from Tim. It was a willingness to accept what she obviously needed.

The hug only lasted for a few seconds and then she stepped back.

"Thank you, Tony," she said, already gaining back most of her usual calm. "Sometimes, it's too hard to be the practical mom."

"My mom was never practical that I remember."

"There are benefits to that," Naomi said with a teary smile. "Sam does most of the crying in our family. I can't tell you hard it was to stand out here and wait."

"Probably only a little bit harder than it was to stand in there and hope."

"Possibly. I don't like my family getting hurt, not for any reason. To know that Tim's pain is caused by something...something I can't fix. That's hard for any parent to accept. We want to take away the pain our children suffer. No matter what." She sighed, the tears gone. "But we can't do that. So we just have to hurt while our children hurt and hope that the pain goes away eventually."

"It will, Naomi. It has to."

"Normally, I'd just say that you're right...but right now... Tony, sometimes the pain doesn't go away, not all of it." She looked at the closed door. "Maybe this will help."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim walked down the stairs and out the door. It was bright and he blinked a number of times as his eyes adjusted to the light. Then, he saw her, standing on the sidewalk looking at him...and his guilt and shame flooded through him again. He stepped down...slowly taking one step at a time...but when he reached the bottom, he couldn't make himself go any farther. He just sat down, staring at the letters.

Then, he saw Marjani's feet.

"Hello, Tim."

"Hi, Marjani."

She sat down beside him.

"These are for you," Tim said. "They're from your family. ...except..."

Marjani reached out and took them. "I know, Tim."

"I'm sorry. I'm really sorry."

Marjani was silent and Tim started to stand up, but Marjani put her hand on his arm.

"Will you sit here while I read them?"

Tim nodded and sat back on the steps. Marjani opened the packet and pulled out the letters. First, she read the shorter letters from Sahansan and Marga. Being significantly younger than she, they didn't have as much to say to their elder sister, although they also included some drawings. Marjani smiled and then cried. Tim looked away, but stayed where he was. Marjani began speaking softly in Lugniapi. She wasn't speaking to Tim, he knew that...and he couldn't understand it anyway. When she got to Esosa's letter, Tim could tell because it was a lot longer. There was no sound as she read and Tim just sat. Then, she inhaled sharply.

Without thinking, Tim reached out and touched her hand. She looked over at him and covered his hand with her own. Then, she turned back to the letter and continued to read, not removing her hand from Tim's. He didn't speak and neither did she.

It took a while for her to get through all the letters. The last thing she saw was the family photo...with the two spaces missing. She looked at it for a long time.

"Thank you...Timon. Mama called you that in her letter."

"Yeah. She always called me that."

"You went through much for these letters."

"You lost more of your family."

"You almost lost your life."

A long pause.

"Was it worth it?" she asked.

"No," Tim said softly. "No. If I had known...what was going to happen as a result of my going there...I never would have gone. Never." He felt the tears again. "I'm so sorry, Marjani. I really did want to help you. I would never have... Never..."

The hand vanished...to be replaced by arms around him.

"It is not your fault, Timon. It is not. It cannot be. You...You do not understand what Lugniapo is like, who we are, what we are. I let you go into a place you could not understand. I just...I did not realize how bad it could be...for you. I was selfish."

"It's not wrong to want to see your family."

"No, but it is not wrong to wish to help, no matter how things happened. What did happen? How did she die?"

Tim's eyes were closed. He only felt Marjani beside him. He did not see her. All he could see in his mind's eye was that horrible sequence of events leading to Alayla's death.

"She took me to the north part of the island. She said there were ruins there."

"Yes. We often hid there as children. ...and it was a common place to gather...for many reasons."

"She was showing me around and a lot of people were there. They were shouting a word, one I didn't understand."

"Do you remember it?"

"Munapiki...or something like that."

"Munafiki?"

"Yes. Is that a word?"

"Yes." Her voice was almost breathless.

"What is it? Marjani. What is it?" Tim opened his eyes and pulled away.

"It means 'traitor'," she said. "They were saying it to Alayla?"

"I think so, but...but I didn't really understand what was going on. No one was speaking English. None of them, not even Alayla. Then, everyone was shouting. Someone started shooting and Alayla just grabbed my hand and pulled me down to the docks. I think she was trying to get away, but I don't know. I really don't know." Tim looked at his hands, away from Marjani's gaze. "I tried to...to _do_ something. I saw a man aiming a gun at her. I tried to push her out of the way. I failed. The next thing I knew, I was falling into a boat...and she...Alayla. Oh, Marjani, she was dead. They shot her anyway."

Tim closed his eyes again, trying to get rid of the image of Alayla's body, eyes staring sightlessly up into the sky.

"Timon...I cannot blame you. No person could. Alayla...she always went her own way, no matter where it went. I...I generally followed my mother and fought for what I believed to be right. Hernan always wanted us to stay safe...as a family, no matter what. My father...he only spoke out when he felt it was important. When my husband and I chose to work for the new government, he warned us of what could happen, but when we insisted, he did not forbid it. My mother encouraged us. She does not take oppression well." Marjani smiled. "But she would never risk family if she could avoid it. ...but Alayla...she loved Lugniapo more than any government. If she thought those in power could rule safely...she would support them. To some...that would make her a traitor. To some."

"To you?" Tim asked, eyes still closed.

"Perhaps it was a good thing that I was forced to leave. She and I may not have agreed on what to do. Timon, do not hide your eyes. You have no reason to hide them from me."

Tim opened his eyes, his green staring into her dark brown. Both awash with tears for the same tragedy.

"I did not know...how to feel when your friends came to me, when they told me that Alayla had been killed. ...but seeing you now, Timon...I cannot be angry. I am sad. Sad that you were hurt so much to try to help me...and sad that my sister died. What I want is for you to be happy and safe again...because I can see that you are not. You are still hurting...and I...and my mother do not want that for you. She wrote about you in her letter, what you suffered and what she saw. I want you to be happy."

"Can you forgive me for what happened?" Tim asked.

"I do not need to."

"Please?"

Marjani leaned forward, took Tim's face in her hands and kissed him on both cheeks.

"You are my danuwa, my mother says."

"What does that mean?"

"My parents adopted you as their son. You are their yaro. You are my danuwa. My adopted brother."

Tim felt tears fall from his eyes and down over her hands which still clasped his face. She kissed his cheeks once more.

"I forgive you, danuwa. I forgive you."

Tim began to cry and hugged Marjani tightly.

"What's the word for sister?"

"Kan'ya."

"Thank you, kan'ya. Thank you."


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27**

After three months of varying levels of violence, a new government took power. This new power quickly set up a rule which was harsh and controlling. People deemed dangerous to the state were arrested, some executed. There were no trials. The U.N. passed a measure condemning the harsh measures, but because Lugniapo was not a member nation, and because it had never shown the slightest interest in becoming so, the declaration carried little to no weight.

That was when the boats began being sited, floating in the waters around the island.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim didn't like taking the elevator. Oh, he _could_, if he had to...but given the choice, he took the stairs, even though he still was at a stage where that level of physical exertion winded him slightly. The drugs he was still taking both for the eradication of the cystic echinococcosis and for any lingering tuberculosis kept him from fully recovering. There was some sign of permanent lung damage, but Dr. Roland said that it would only make him more susceptible to lung infections and if he were careful, he wouldn't have anything to worry about.

"Good morning, McGee," Ziva said as he walked into the bullpen.

He smiled and nodded to her. For whatever reason, he still couldn't bring himself to speak much...not first thing in the morning. It took a few hours for him to...feel comfortable enough to speak, to hold a normal conversation. He didn't do much here yet.

"Hey, Probie! Have I got the problem for you!" Tony said, standing up. Unassumingly, he steered Tim toward his desk and helped him sit down (not that Tim needed help sitting...but that didn't really matter).

"What is it?" he asked.

"Delicious, nutritious...ultra-tasty search parameters!"

Tim looked up at Tony with a quizzical expression on his face and then he looked over at Ziva who just smiled and rolled her eyes.

Tony had crafted a look of utter fascination on his face...but he didn't say anything. In effect, _forcing_ Tim to ask for more information.

"What do you want me to search for?" he asked, finally.

"The most likely place where our guy might be holed up. Here's all the information and here's a map. Pick something out for me. Please?"

"Why?"

"Because I just know that el Jefe will be expecting it. Soon."

Tim smiled and chuckled a little. "All right. I'll do it."

"Excellent! I just happened to have everything ready."

"Really."

"Yes! Really!"

Tony piled the files in front of Tim, and Tim felt a tugging of almost-foreign curiosity. He opened the first one, began reading.

He began to work.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Capt. Jonathan Rice grimaced at the latest news report. The cruise line had cancelled or scaled back many of the cruises that had gone by Lugniapo. In fact, his own ship was currently stuck in port with no scheduled cruise forthcoming. It was hard to sit there and be able to do nothing.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim still spent more time watching the news on Lugniapo than could quite be healthy, but he could turn away from it, at least. When he was at work, he had it on his computer, the volume low, but the window always visible. When he was at his apartment, the television was always on even as he tried to interest himself in normal life again. He and Marjani sometimes spent time watching it together, although not often.

When the first evidence of racially-motivated killings appeared, Tim was good for very little for days. The new leaders of Lugniapo were bent on purifying their island, cleaning out the "criminal elements". That meant those whose blood wasn't "pure" had to go. Some were simply driven off the island and made to try and survive as they could in the ocean. Others were arrested and either imprisoned or executed as enemies of the state.

"Why aren't they doing anything?" Tim demanded, one day in the bullpen. "Look at what they're doing! Why isn't anyone doing anything to stop them?"

"What _can _they do?" Ziva asked.

Tim looked at the television...and another homemade movie. It was at Sirja prison.

"Lugniapo is a tiny island! If the U.N. _wanted_ to do anything, you think they couldn't? It's because they don't matter enough."

Ziva walked over and turned off the television, moved Tim out of the way and closed his omnipresent video feed on his computer. Tim didn't stop her.

"McGee, the United Nations does not have authority over people who refuse to be a part. They must follow their own rules."

"...like you guys did to...to save me? How were _you_ following the rules?" Tim asked. "Like _we_ saved _you_? How was that following the rules? Why do we use that excuse when we just don't want to do anything about it?"

Ziva looked at Tony who stood and joined them at Tim's desk.

"Probie..."

"You can't try to tell me that there's anything good or decent or...or _right_ about what's going on there! You _can't_!" Tim said, his voice rising slightly.

"McGee, it _isn't_ good...or decent...or right," Tony said and then hesitated. "...any more than what happened to _you_ was good or decent or right."

Tim winced and looked away.

"No one would have done anything...and at that, it was risky what _we_ did. It could have gone wrong at any stage...and that was just us getting one person out. Just you. What do you expect to happen, McGee?"

"I don't know," Tim said quietly. "I just... Don't you understand?"

"What, McGee?"

"What they're doing down there... Esosa and Jimeno...their kids...they'll be targeted. They're not..._pure_. They could be..."

Ziva's eyes widened as she understood. "Oh...Tim, I had not thought of that. Not at all."

Tim managed a trembling smile. "Lucky you."

Ziva squeezed Tim's arm. "You must hope for the best, McGee... there is nothing else you can do...as horrible as it is."

There was a long pause and then Tim shook his head.

"No...there is something I can do," he said.

"What?"

This smile was stronger. "The same thing you did for me."

"You can't go back there, Probie!"

"That's not what I mean."

"Well, what _do_ you mean?"

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Capt. Rice hung up his phone, surprised beyond measure by the recent call. He hadn't been able to give an answer, but that was only because he didn't dare promise what he wasn't sure he could give. His eyes were drawn to the television. Another flash of images and that was enough. He hadn't been a Marine to turn away when there was suffering that he could so easily help ameliorate. Quickly, he scheduled a conference with the cruise line owners and was ready to explain the plan.

His cruise ship could accommodate nearly 3000 passengers. ...and it was empty right now. ...and there were dozens of people in the waters off Lugniapo, trying to escape the turmoil, trying to survive.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Tim, are you sure about this?" Abby asked, sitting nervously beside him as the cameras were being set up in his apartment.

"Yes."

"You don't know what kind of fallout there could be from...from admitting that you got away!"

"I've already talked it over with everyone else. They agreed that it was the best thing to do."

Abby hugged him tightly. "But...but you don't know if it will even do any good!"

Tim smiled. "Did you know if it would do any good to ask for anyone from Lugniapo to come and talk to NCIS?"

"No...but I hoped."

"Exactly. Too many people sacrificed too much for me to hide as if I'm ashamed of it. ...and with what is happening down there...people need to know. It has to be more than just images on a screen. We're so comfortable here. We have it so easy. We get irate about stupid little things and say that we're oppressed. ...but look at those people on Lugniapo! Look at what they're facing! We have it so good...and their lives are so bad! We can't look away and pretend it doesn't exist. I can't let that happen."

"What if it doesn't do any good?"

"What if I had been dead on Lugniapo...and not just in prison?"

"Agent McGee?"

Tim looked away from Abby and at Matthias Terrenton.

"We're ready to start."

"Okay." He turned back to Abby. "Abby...this is what I have to do. It's important...for me _and _for them. Okay?"

"All right, Tim." Abby leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. "I'll stay out of the way...unless they're mean to you." She glared at the ZNN reporter. "You hear me? You be nice or I'll get in the way!"

"I'll be utterly courteous," Matthias promised.

"Abby, it's all right. Let's just get going."

"Okay. Are we ready?"

"Ready," the cameraman said, nodding. Silently, he held up his hand, counting down. When he reached one, he pointed to Matthias.

"Hello, this is Matthias Terrenton, for ZNN. In light of the tragedy occurring on Lugniapo even as we speak, I am returning to an earlier story, one that captivated the nation. I am talking, of course, of the disappearance of Timothy McGee. His parents accused the Lugniapi government of hiding him, possibly of killing him while he was on a research trip to the island. For the last few months, we have tried, without success, to see what comment, if any, his parents had on the situation. Well, imagine my surprise when, three days ago, I received a call from Timothy McGee himself, requesting an interview. I am with him now."

The camera did a slow pan over to Tim who sat uncomfortably on a chair.

"Hello, Mr. McGee."

"Just Tim, please," Tim said, nervously. Now that the moment had arrived, he was incredibly nervous about the whole thing...and it showed.

"Relax, Tim. Forget about the camera."

"Easy for you to say."

"Yes, well, that's true. Now, I know that everyone wants to hear about what happened, what led to your disappearance, where you've been and what led to your sudden reappearance, but first, would you tell me...and our viewers, why exactly you asked for an interview?"

Tim nodded. "I'm doing this because, while I would prefer to be able to get back to my life without cameras in my face," he smiled a little, "I can't sit back and just watch what's going on down there without trying to do...something to help. People are dying down there and we just click our tongues and say that it's too bad. It's more than too bad. It's horrible and I can't just say it's too bad. If telling my story gets people to do something, then it will be worth a little discomfort on my part."

"I admire your conviction, Tim. Now...let's start at the beginning, shall we? What led you to Lugniapo in the first place? Some people will say that it was irresponsible and reckless."

"In a way, it was, but there were reasons why I felt it was safe to go...and was the right thing to do."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"We've got unidentified watercraft, Captain!"

Capt. Rice walked quickly away from his contemplation of the empty ship...something he hoped to change soon.

"Details?"

"About thirty miles east-northeast."

"How many?"

"Looks like..." He sobered. "...nearly fifty small craft, sir."

"Fifty?"

"Yes, sir."

"Make best possible speed."

"Best speed, aye, sir."

It took them just over an hour to reach the small flotilla of...crafts. They could hardly be called boats and many were riding very low in the water. All had no fewer than ten people aboard...some not moving at all, others looking up as the huge ship came near.

"Get those people aboard," Capt. Rice ordered. "See if any speak a language other than Lugniapi. Those who do, put them in positions to speak to the ones who don't."

"Aye, sir!"

The crew sprang into action, fulfilling his orders and moving as a well-oiled machine. Smaller ships detached from the _Mariposa_ and headed for the flotilla.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Rescued prisoner speaks to the media, urges aid to Lugniapi people _

_Washington, DC (AP) - Missing Maryland man, Timothy McGee recently spoke to the media, talking in detail about his trip to Lugniapo, his arrest and six-month imprisonment at the hands of the Lugniapi government. He is using his experience and the public's interest in it to urge aid to those under seige by the new government._

"_There are good people on Lugniapi," McGee said, "people who are being hunted down, their lives at risk, just because of who they are. We can't just sit by and let that happen, no matter what the governments can't do." McGee explained that it was only through the kindness of a Lugniapi family that he survived his long incarceration. Prisoners are not given food, water or medical treatment and those without outside help soon die of starvation. McGee himself nearly died of tuberculosis, for which he is still being treated, along with malnutrition and parasitic infections._

_McGee described the prison in which he was held as a place where "they kill your spirit before they destroy your body. The government before was corrupt, but what has replaced it is no better. In fact, it might be worse."_

_When asked why he had not come forward when he was first rescued, McGee was abrupt and stated that he had not been in a condition to speak to anyone, least of all the media. It is only the plight of those suffering on Lugniapo which has stirred him out of his seclusion._

_McGee does not expect miracles from relating his experiences, but he hopes to continue to cast light on the dark shadows of Lugniapo. To this end, he has set up a non-profit organization which is helping to fund those Lugniapi citizens who have fled their island, helping them reach various countries and giving them aid in gaining refugee status and permanent residency, should they desire it. In addition, he hinted at other initiatives but was not specific._

"_I am hoping that there will be some big news soon, but I can't say anything until I get confirmation."_

_Any hints? "It's similar to what was done for me." With that cryptic statement, Timothy McGee has done what he hoped to do: he has kept attention and interest on Lugniapo._

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Four days later, the _Mariposa_ arrived in the port of Vitoria, Brasil, loaded with more than 850 living refugees...and 76 dead.


	28. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

_One month later..._

"McGee, if you start feeling tired, you tell me," Gibbs ordered. "This is your first full day back."

Tim started to nod, but Tony interrupted.

"The boss doesn't want to face Naomi if he wears you out too quickly."

_Thwack!_

"Thanks, Boss."

"Are we clear, McGee?"

"Clear, Boss," Tim said. He looked at the television once more before picking up his bag and following the others to the elevator. No new video...

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Abby was hanging around in the bullpen, waiting anxiously for Tim's return from his first day back in the field. He was doing much better, but with his continued treatment for TB, he still wasn't back to full form, and he wouldn't be for months more.

"Abigail, what brings you up here?"

Abby turned from Tim's desk.

"Hey, Ducky. Just waiting...you know...waiting."

Ducky smiled. "For Timothy?"

"It's his first day back! I mean, _really_ back! What if he's not ready? What if something happens? There's all the publicity from his interviews. What if it gets to be too much?"

"Abigail, I think you are more worried than his own mother."

"Well...well..." Abby bounced a little. "I just...He's doing so well...but he's not back to normal!"

"That's true...he _is_ doing well and he is _not_ back to normal. You have to accept both parts, Abigail."

"I do! I really do! ...but..."

The phone on Tim's desk rang.

"Should I answer it?" Abby asked...and then didn't give Ducky a chance to answer. She snatched up the phone. "Hello? Agent McGee's desk. What? Really? Wow. When? Yes...yes, I'll tell Tim about it. I really will. Thank you! Yes! Good-bye!"

"What is it, Abigail?" Ducky asked.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"How are you feeling, McGee?" Ziva asked in a low voice as she walked past him.

"I'm okay."

"Good okay or bad okay?" she asked.

Tim smiled. "Okay okay."

She touched his arm. "I understand. I felt much the same...before."

"Thanks, Ziva."

She nodded and then passed on to her task. Tim continued taking photos. Then, his phone rang. He picked it up.

"Agent McGee."

"_Tim! Tim! Tim! Tim!"_

"Abby?" Tim asked.

"_Yes! Tim, you've got to come back! You'll never guess! Really! Never!"_

"Guess what? Abbs, I'm...I'm _working_, right now."

"_Well, _stop_ working! Come! Give your phone to Gibbs. I'll tell him that you need to come."_

Tim shook his head and held out his phone. "Boss? Abby says that she needs to tell you that I need to go back to NCIS."

Gibbs gave him a quizzical look and took the phone.

"Yeah, Abbs?"

That apparently unleashed an Abby torrent of words because Gibbs said nothing else. He just listened.

"Abby, as soon as we're done here. We're close. No, Abby. Almost. Ten minutes. That'll give you time."

He hung up and gave the phone back to McGee who stared at him.

"Get back to work, McGee."

"Yes, Boss."

Tim got back to work, but he noticed that Gibbs whispered to Tony and Ziva...and they both sped up in their work.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"What's going on, Boss?" Tim asked. "This isn't back to NCIS. Where are we going?"

"Patience, Probie."

"But where are we going? And why do you all know...and I don't?"

"Because we're special. ...and you're specialer."

Ziva shook her head. "It is a surprise, McGee. You will like it. I promise."

"Okay."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

They pulled up to the park and got out.

"Well?"

Tony was looking around and then he sighted in on a group of people off in the trees.

"There! Let's go, McGee!"

Tim allowed himself to be led, but he didn't know what to expect.

"Timon!"

Tim stopped stock-still at the voice. It was only the combined efforts of Tony and Ziva that kept him moving forward.

Abby shrieked at the sight of him and ran forward.

"Tim, come on! Look who's here!"

Tim wasn't looking at Abby. He was looking at the small knot of people standing a few feet away.

"Mama?" he whispered in shock.

"Timon...it is so good to see you!" A thin woman with gray hair came forward and put her arms around him. She was too thin and her eyes were seemed too large for her face...but there was no mistaking her voice...or the feel of her hug.

"Esosa," he said. "Where...where did...How?"

"I was told that it was because of you, Timon," Esosa said, letting him go. "A Capitan Rice said that you wanted him to go to Lugniapo and find us...the people in the boats. ...we were in the boats. All of us."

Tim shook his head. "Oh, no."

She gestured behind her. "No, it is...it is a good thing, Timon. It does not seem good, but...but we were saved. Others...others did not survive, but we did. All of us. We were sick and...and Jimeno and Hernan had been in prison."

A shadow passed over her face, one Tim could understand completely. He hugged her again.

"But we escaped into the boats with many others and floated out to sea. Capitan Rice took us to Brasil and then..." She laughed. "...and then it seems as though I have been filling out forms since then!"

"Forms?"

Esosa pulled back and smiled. "We are officially refugees, living in the United States."

Tim looked up and saw Jimeno and Hernan, standing with their arms around Marjani. Both bore unmistakable signs of harsh treatment. Marga and Sahansan still looked bewildered. They all had tears in their eyes, but they looked happy.

"I'm so...so glad that you're safe!"

"I am also very happy to see you, Timon. I never thought to be able to see that you were safe and happy. I hope that I can see you complete and whole."

A tension Tim had felt for so long he had ceased to be aware of it suddenly started to dissolve, the omnipresent feeling of fear and anguish began to vanish...and as he allowed the reality of Esosa's presence to penetrate his mind, he felt the first stirrings of real hope.

"Welcome to the United States, Mama."

"Welcome home, Timon," Esosa replied.

FINIS!


End file.
